Souls Errant
by Psyche17
Summary: Pelagius's daughter arrives at Hadrian's Wall for sanctuary. I suck at summaries. TristanOC and DagonetOC.
1. Chapter 1

Some people will tell you that riding in a carriage is a luxury, an extravagance, and a comfort to anyone fortunate enough to afford such mode of transportation. Some people don't know what the hell they're talking about. That carriages are the least bit comfortable is a bloody misconception that I feel quite obliged to clear up this very instant. Carriages, on the contrary, are stuffy, claustrophobic little boxes that bounce their passengers up and down and up and down until they quite feel they are about to vomit.

No, give me a horse and saddle any day in the open breeze where I can look forward towards my destination. Thirty years of being cooped up in such manifestations of Roman opulence is enough for anyone to grow weary. At least, those were my thoughts as I was presently jostled about in one such Roman carriage through the forests of an obscure little island called Britain.

My mistress was sleeping with her pretty head resting on the tiny window sill on the carriage's door. Ten years my junior and of a different temper entirely, Jade never complained about anything, not even carriage rides. She endured every inconvenience and discomfort with dignity and forbearance. Even when I was forced to cut her long locks of beautiful hair to disguise her identity as a young nobleman, she uttered not a word.

I reckon her boyish appearance bothered her more than she let on, however, for during our long journey from Rome, I often spied her groping at the back of her neck that was now left exposed to all the elements. She was dressed in nobleman's clothing, as well, which only exaggerated her slightness in frame. The tunic drooped in the shoulders and we had to fasten a belt tightly around her waist in order to hold up the trousers. The costuming was rudimentary at best, but it would have to do. It was of the utmost importance to her safety that her identity be concealed.

Now, I doubt it will come as any shock to you whatsoever that at this moment in time we were assaulted by a band of blue demon warriors. After all, what better screams "Attack me!" than an allegedly luxurious Roman carriage making its way through the forest? This is yet another reason I prefer riding on horseback, but I'm just the maid after all.

My mistress awoke at the first shouts and was quickly upright and alert with weapon in hand, rushing out the carriage door. She had been training in the art of war since the beginning of our long journey and was quick to join in the fighting, despite my urgings to the contrary.

"My lady!" I cried after her, "Get back here this instant!"

But she was already out on the ground engaging one of the heathen warriors in sword play. Obstinate girl! I, on the other hand, had never even once touched the hilt of a sword. I warn you, however, not to underestimate me because of my inexperience. I'm a sturdy woman of solid frame and no man or beast has yet to knock me from my feet.

I presently exited the carriage, planting my feet firmly on the forest floor and daring any of those blue demons to try and lay a hand on me. I also simultaneously kept an eye on my mistress who was holding her own alongside our Roman soldier escorts. She even blended into the crowd with that masculine attire she had on. I had to admit, she wasn't doing too badly considering the minimal training she had received from Marcus Aurelius, the cavalry leader, over the past month.

I hadn't objected to her being trained. After her long recovery from the attempted assassination on her life, Jade needed the security of knowing that she could take care of herself. She therefore began training with every sort of weapon she could get her hands on. She was a determined sort of person who never failed at anything she attempted, so her skills grew quickly with Marcus Aurelius' assistance.

Of course, how convenient it was that at this very moment in time Marcus Aurelius was struck down by a rather nasty looking blue warrior. One minute he was alive and parrying with his sword and the next he was lying prostrate on the ground. Just like that. My confidence in Jade's ability to defend herself started to dwindle.

"Mistress!" I shouted, "Come back to the carriage at once! I mean it! If you don't return by the count of three, I'll drag you back myself. ONE!...TWO!..."

A blue warrior came barreling towards me with axe in hand before I could finish. I narrowed my eyes at him and scowled, placing my hands firmly on my hips. The death stare. It was known to burn some men alive. The warrior hesitated in his attack just long enough for me to hike up my skirt and kick him directly in the shins. He yelped in pain as I proceeded to shove him to the ground.

Well, and so there he was lying on the ground about to reach for that axe again. What was a maid to do? What was I to do to restrain that viscious blue man from attacking me again? I did the only thing I could. I plopped my significant ass right down on his head. That would hold him long enough.

"Will you quit your squirming?" I demanded, planting my weight more securely as the blue man writhed and struggled beneath me. Meanwhile, I scanned my surroundings in frantic search for my mistress. Her father would have my head if she were killed on my watch. I finally spotted her several feet away, clanking swords with another one of those blue heathens. Though she continued to effectively to block his thrusts, I could tell she was growing tired.

"Mistress!" I yelled in the most threatening tone I could muster, "In all that's holy, you put that sword down right now!"

In hindsight, that request was probably less than reasonable. The warrior she was fighting looked pretty bloodthirsty. I was getting concerned, though. She couldn't very well hold him off forever. The warrior knocked the sword from her hand. I shrieked. After we had come so close to our destination, it just wasn't right that her life should be taken _now_. I quickly sent a prayer up to heaven, pleading to God to save her. She had lived through so much, I thought, it certainly couldn't come down to this. Jade was on her back now and the warrior had his weapon raised over his head ready to strike.

Hallelujah! My prayer was answered in the form of a dark-haired man who sprung from the brush and cut down my mistress's assailant. Two other men promptly joined him, one with a mop of curly dark hair and another with a shaved head and loud voice. The three men proceeded to effortlessly hack down the rest of the blue warriors. They had obviously done this before.

I got to my feet, releasing my blue captive who immediately fled back into the forest. Good riddance. Meanwhile, the latter two of our rescuers presently advanced towards me.

"Are you alright, miss?" asked the curly-haired man, as he slid his twin sword back into their sheaths. He was a cocky bastard, that one. I could tell by his smile.

"Me? Oh, I am fine," I said, waving him off, "But where is---"

I stopped mid-sentence when I saw Jade still lying safely on the ground. She was staring up with wide green eyes at the man who had saved her. Oh no, I thought, not that look. The man had a bit of a barbaric appearance, actually, with dark tousled hair and odd markings on his cheeks. He took little notice of her, however, as he methodically wiped the blood from his curved sword.

"James," I called to my mistress with our previously agreed upon codename. It was still uncertain whether these men could be trusted. Better to be overly cautious until we knew for sure they weren't hired spies or assassins. Upon hearing the codename, Jade promptly rose to her feet and came to stand by my side.

"You're lucky we were riding nearby," said the curly haired one, observing the dead Roman soldiers that lay all around our broken carriage, "We don't normally expect to find Roman caravans out this far."

"Who were those men?" asked Jade in reference to the blue warriors. I gave her a harsh look of warning not to be so trusting.

"Native rebels," the bald one said with a menacing tone, obviously trying to frighten us, "who roast Roman boys like you alive."

"Woads," the curly haired one clarified, "They have a knack for attacking poorly guarded entourages."

"You look like you have a knack for killing them off, though," Jade said. She clearly seemed impressed.

"My young master and I are much obliged to you for your help," I added, giving a curt bow as was proper for my station.

"Oh, it was no trouble at all," the curly haired one said with a charming grin, "Where are you headed?"

I looked at him suspiciously, still not completely confident in the seemingly benevolent nature of these strangers. He appeared to sense my apprehension. "No need to fear us, love," he said, "We are Sarmatian knights."

"That our motto now, is it?" grunted the bald man, "Go on and spread that one around, won't you?"

The tattooed one snorted. It was as close to speech as he got, apparently.

"We serve Rome," the curly haired man explained, rolling his eyes at the bald one, "I am Lancelot and that is Bors and Tristan."

"We are headed to the fort at Hadrian's Wall," I said, "My master must speak with the Roman commander Artorius Castus."

"Who?" Bors asked, "You must have the wrong Island."

"Bors," Lancelot chided sternly.

"What?" Bors said innocently. It was becoming clear that this man did not think much of us Romans.

"As fate would have it," Lancelot said, turning back to me, "We're stationed at Hadrian's Wall under Arthur's command. You can come with us."

"Very well," I said, "But know that my master is very important to Rome and you shall be harshly punished if any harm comes to him."

Lancelot laughed. "One day," he said, "I'd like to meet an unimportant Roman, just to see that one exists."

"Every life is important," Jade spoke up, quoting one of her father's teachings, "Whether Roman or Sarmatian or any other sort of person."

Lancelot raised an eyebrow at her. "Just how well do you know Arthur?" he asked.

Jade furrowed her eyebrows quizzically, unsure what he meant by the question.

"We should be going," Tristan interjected (so, he could speak!), "If the Woads return, they will come in greater numbers."

Lancelot nodded to his tattooed friend and whistled to his horse. In the mean time, Jade and I retrieved two horses from the caravan. As my mistress mounted the animal, she at first seated herself sidesaddle out of habit. I hastily shot her a warning glance which she quickly ascertained the meaning of and swung her leg over to the other side. Tristan eyed her suspiciously.

"Be careful," I whispered, "These men could be dangerous."

"I think if they wanted to hurt us, they would have done so already," she whispered back.

I swear that girl couldn't think badly of a bear gnawing her arm off. That's why she had me. I'd been looking after her for nearly fifteen years now, ever since her father Pelagius had brought her back from Britain to Rome. She was to stay with her aunt and uncle under my care while her father saw to political business. I grew to love her as dearly as if she were my own.

I didn't know what to think of these Sarmatian characters, though. If they really were under Arthur's command then, of course, they could be trusted. But that tattooed one called Tristan kept staring at my mistress in a way that made me nervous. As far as I could tell, the men didn't suspect that she was actually a girl---but that look Tristan kept giving her---I couldn't read it.

The ride to Hadrian's Wall was an overall quiet one. Tristan's attention was soon diverted by a hawk that had soared down to find a resting place on his arm. What an incredibly strange man. Jade was clearly intrigued, though, and watched intently as he stroked the bird under its beak.

"Is it yours?" Jade asked.

"She belongs to no one," he replied tersely.

Jade smiled faintly. "As it should be," she said quietly.

The rain was pouring down hard when we finally reached the Wall. Jade appeared clearly exhausted and I wished to get her inside immediately to a warm bed. Her eyes were bloodshot and held dark circles, and she shivered violently from the cold. The journey from Rome had been hard on her, especially as it was so soon after her recovery from the assassination attempt.

Once inside the gates, we dismounted our horses which were seen to by an amiable man named Jols. Minutes later, a tall and assured figure strode towards us. Jade ran over to him, the rain streaking down her face.

"Arthur, I'm so sorry," she said, "I didn't know where else to go."


	2. Chapter 2

"Arthur, I'm so sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

Well, that's certainly an unconventional way to greet a friend you have not seen in fifteen years. I honestly had no idea how Jade recognized Arthur after so much time spent apart. She only had memories of him from childhood, but of course that didn't stop the fool girl from running up to him the second she saw him. I would have to lecture her later on the indecency of chasing after random men and blurting things out at them.

But I never could stay sour with that child for very long. She made quite the pitiful sight, standing there shivering in the rain with wide, fearful eyes and shoulders slumped in exhaustion. It was no wonder Arthur stared curiously at her, racking his brain for some sort of familiarity. Her chopped off hair and masculine attire altered her appearance so dramatically that Arthur would never have thought to identify her as the little toddler who had served as his childhood playmate. In fact, the thoughts that were more likely running through his mind at this moment were, 'Who the hell is this scrawny boy and what does he want?'

Jade looked up at Arthur in desperation as they stood in silence, the rain beating down around them. A flash of recognition finally crossed Arthur's face just as Jade's stance faltered. Her eyes fluttered shut and her legs wobbled beneath her. Arthur reached out and caught the unconscious girl in his arms before she could crumple to the ground.

I bolted over to them, wrapping my arms around my mistress and helping to hold her upright. The lines on Arthur's brow were creased in concern and his eyes were wide with worry. "Is this---"

"Shhh!" I stifled him. Obviously, she was disguised for a reason and why he should suppose it all right to blurt her name out was beyond me.

"Jade?" he whispered so that only I could hear.

"James," I corrected, though I gave him a look of confirmation, "I am Minerva, a maid in his family's household. Please---we are in grave danger."

Arthur's hands were wet and he looked down to see that they were stained with Jade's blood. I gasped in shock at the front of her tunic that was soaked through in crimson red. Not again, I thought.

"Tristan!" Arthur called to his knight urgently, "Fetch Dagonet! Go!"

"Oh, God. Oh, God," I wailed, frantically pressing my hands to my mistress's stomach to find the source of the bleeding. "Oh God, no!"

"Let's get h---err---him inside," Arthur said in an authoritative tone. Without hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms and made for the fort. I followed quickly at his heels in a state of panic.

"Oh, God. Oh God," I said, which seemed at the moment to be the only phrase I was capable of uttering. "Oh God," I repeated, "this is all my fault. I should have watched her more carefully. I shouldn't have let her fight those men. I should have known this would happen. I should have…"

We reached an unoccupied room and Arthur kicked the door open, rushing Jade over to the bed and laying her down on her back. She was still unconscious and her face was as white as the linen sheets beneath her. I hurried to kneel by her side and touched my hand to her forehead to feel for her temperature.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked, "What happened?"

"We were attacked…" I explained breathlessly, "…must have been wounded…and…Oh, God, why did I not think to check for injury?"

I wasn't making much sense. Arthur beseeched me to slow down and start from the beginning, so I explained to him about how the Woads had raided our caravan in the forest. I told him about how Jade had been fighting them off until the knights had arrived. That cursed Woad must have struck her in the abdomen somehow.

"And could you not have stopped to tend the wound?" he demanded, "She's lost a lot of blood…"

I rose to my feet and walked over to the entryway, closing the door so our conversation would not be heard. "Arthur," I said gravely, "Much has changed since you were last in contact with my mistress."

Arthur nodded his head soberly. "I'm listening."

It was a difficult tale to tell, especially for me for I have no gift for story-weaving. Nor have I the talent for the subtlety of speech a good narrative requires. I tend to speak bluntly, saying exactly what it is I mean to say in no uncertain terms, many times to the abhorrence of my audience. But that is neither here nor there for Arthur did not want the superfluous eloquence of a poet. He just wanted answers.

So answers were what I gave him, though I knew he would find no comfort in them. The horrors that his childhood friend had endured were quite enough to make his blood boil. My mistress and I had thought that we were safe in the home of her aunt and uncle on the countryside, but the corruption of Rome did not stop at the city gates. It happened three months ago. They poisoned the wine and sent assassins that very night to burn down the estate. Her aunt and uncle died in the fire, but I, along with several of the remaining loyal guards, quickly removed my mistress to safety before the house collapsed. Her heart was barely beating.

We hid her in the humble home of Marcus Aurelius, the cavalry leader and our most trusted guard. The poison put my mistress in a month long coma. It ate away at her flesh until she was so frail that her bones protruded out beneath her sickly transparent skin. When she finally regained consciousness, it was intermittent and filled with hallucinations and terrors.

"Sir," I said solemnly, "I don't think her mind has been the same since."

"She has lost her wits?"

"No," I said, "She is quite alert. But she does not acknowledge certain things---the night of the fire---even her aunt and uncle. It's as if she does not remember them clearly, though she lived with them most her life. I tell her that she was poisoned, that there are assassins after her, and she says to me, 'Alright, Minnie. I shall learn the sword.' It's like it doesn't bother her. Nothing bothers her."

"Not even a bleeding torso?"

"I was getting to that," I said, "Impatient man! You see, by some miracle, mistress recovered from the deadly poison, but it has left permanent effects. She cannot feel physical pain. The wound on her stomach? She probably didn't even realize it."

Arthur drew in a deep breath as my words sunk in. "And what of her father?" he asked, "What of Pelagius?"

"It's been almost a year since we've received word," I said, "That's why we came to you. You are a trusted friend---one of the few we have left."

"Jade was like a sister to me growing up," Arthur said, "My knights and I will do what we must to protect her."

"Sir, I'll say this once and once only: her identity must not be revealed to anyone," I warned, "not even to your knights."

"We keep no secrets among us," he replied, "and you can trust them with your life as I do. You can trust them with _her_ life."

"I do not doubt it, but my mind is made up. I am well aware of the bonds of brotherhood and fraternal loyalty and whatever other name you want to give it," I said, "But as far as your knights are concerned, the son of a noble Roman family has come to stay under your protection. Roman assassins have ears against every wall and eyes in every keyhole. The more people who know her true identity, the more you expose her to certain danger."

"I don't like deceiving my men."

"Granted," I said, "But I reckon the displeasure is no more than you would feel with her death on your conscience." I then stood waiting for his reply with firmly planted feet and hands on my hips. I narrowed my eyes at him and gave him _the look. _I meant business.

At last, Arthur sighed. "Very well," he relented.

There was presently a sharp knock at the door to which Arthur answered for whoever it was to enter. The door opened and Tristan appeared in the entryway alongside another man, also a knight, carrying a healer's bag. The second man had a shaved head that sat monstrously high on top of broad shoulders, though his stature certainly wasn't enough to intimidate _me_. The two knights entered silently and awaited orders.

"This is Dagonet," said Arthur, "He is skilled in the art of healing. The boy could not be placed in more capable hands than his."

The pain of this first deceit showed on Arthur's face, but I ignored it. Instead, I studied Dagonet carefully for a moment, scrutinizing his every aspect. "And does your healer always perform his work from across the room?" I asked derisively.

Dagonet rolled his eyes at me, probably thinking I was just another stuck-up Roman woman. Well he could think that if he wanted, but he would be wrong. I was not stuck-up; I was just overbearing. With these kinds of men, it was of the utmost importance to let them know from the beginning who's in charge. You start off lenient with them, and they'll take advantage of your soft heart. From my experience, men are like children and should be treated as such. I had grown accustomed to being the one to take charge of situations.

"And you," I said, turning my attention to Tristan, "You can go. We won't be needing you."

Unlike the more obliging Dagonet, this man did not budge. He simply stood there staring at me with that same expressionless face. So what did I do? I put my hands back on my hips, narrowed my eyes, and for the third time that day gave _the look. _

And still he did not budge! Obstinate man! I intensified my glare, but he only seemed all the more determined to spite me. He looked directly in my eyes---and he would not budge!

"Tristan…" Arthur broke in at last.

Without releasing me from his stare, Tristan reached into his pocket and pulled out a patch of cloth. "I found this on one of your guards," he said to me as he tossed the cloth to Arthur.

"The badge of an assassin," Arthur said after a momentary glance at the patch. He looked up for confirmation from his knight, but Tristan had already exited the room. Good riddance.

"An assassin?" I asked in disbelief, "One of our guards? But we knew them all in Rome…they were stationed at the estate…"

"Were any left alive after the attack on the caravan?" Arthur asked.

"No…"

"Good," Arthur said, "Then we won't have to question loyalties."

"Oh, God," I cried, "If one managed to follow us this far, surely there must be others who know we are here…"

"Do you know who's ordered these assassinations?"

"No," I replied, "How could we? We were quite isolated on the countryside. What motivation could these killers possibly have?"

"Holy shit!" Dagonet gasped. He had removed Jade's tunic in order to better clean and stitch the wound.

"What?" Arthur asked, "What is it?"

"It's a girl!" Dagonet said, pointing at Jade's bound breasts.

"And do you stitch up a girl any differently than you would a man?" I demanded.

Dagonet scowled. "You said she was a boy."

"Dagonet," Arthur said, his voice calm and beseeching, "For her safety, she is not a girl, but a Roman boy named James who has come to us for sanctuary. We have decided to keep her identity and gender hidden---from everyone---even from---"

"You ask me to tell a lie," Dagonet said, "to my brothers in arms."

"We're not keeping anything from them that they wouldn't have to pretend not to know anyway," Arthur contended.

"I still don't like it."

"Warriors," I scoffed, shaking my head, "You don't mind hacking each other to pieces, but ask you to tell a little white lie and you'd think someone had shoved an arrow up your ass."

"That's enough," Arthur ordered (point in case of the arrow in the ass bit), "Dagonet, how is she?"

Dagonet had cleaned the blood from her stomach and had begun to sew up the laceration. "She passed out from blood loss, but there's no fever and I've stopped the bleeding," he reported, "For her sake, I hope she stays asleep long enough for me to get these stitches in."

"Not like it would hurt her," I muttered.

"She doesn't feel physical pain," Arthur explained.

"Long term effect of certain poisons," Dagonet noted with a nod of his head, "I have heard it spoken of, but have never known any to experience it." Well, look who thought he knew everything.

"Now, what is that you're doing there?" I demanded, observing his needlework, "Is that really going to hold?"

"I've never had a patient burst his stitches," he assured me.

"But shouldn't you perhaps make them closer together?" I persisted, watching over his shoulder, "Less gaps, perhaps?"

"Woman!" he cried in exasperation, "I'm not hemming a skirt, here. Now, let me do my work."

I shrugged my shoulders casually. "No need to get touchy," I said, "Just making sure she gets the best care is all."

As Dagonet finished up the last stitch, Jade began to awaken from her slumber. Her head rolled from side to side on the pillow and her face held a strained and afflicted expression. "No," she mumbled in half-consciousness, "No…no…"

"Shhh," I said, putting a comforting hand to her forehead.

"Minnie?"

"I'm here," I said, "I'm here."

"It flew away," she mumbled.

"What flew away, dear?"

"The hawk…"


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, I had calmed considerably. Jade was going to be alright. In fact, she had slept through the night quite soundly. Despite my apprehensions, I had to begrudgingly admit to myself that Dagonet really had done a satisfactory job with the stitches. I suppose I just had trouble accepting that anyone could take better care of my mistress than I could. I've never claimed modesty or humility among my virtues.

Arthur returned to the quarters first thing in the morning to check on Jade. He clearly favored the girl and not just because Pelagius was her father, but also because of the distant memories of happier childhood times. I won't deny that I secretly hoped that a new kind of affection might spark between them. Arthur would make a good and doting husband, I was sure. Why yes, a doting husband for my mistress indeed. I studied his strong, chiseled frame and emerald green eyes. What beautiful babies they would make as well!

Arthur presently sat down on the bed beside my mistress, and they embraced warmly. "I'm so glad to see you well," he said.

"Oh, Arthur," Jade said, "I've missed you so much."

I smiled secretly to myself. They were practically engaged already!

Meanwhile, Arthur and Jade exchanged the usual pleasantries, inquiring after all that had happened in the past fifteen years. Jade asked how Arthur liked being a commander to which he confided that he and his knights expected to receive their discharge papers in not more than a week's time. He had intended to journey to Rome afterwards, but if Jade's situation were not resolved before then, he would have to rethink his plans.

"I never intended to be such a bother," Jade said apologetically, "Please don't trouble yourself on my account. I'm sure Minnie exaggerated the entire thing to make it sound worse than it really is."

"I certainly did not!" I protested. Honestly, sometimes that girl made me sound like some kind of melodramatic harpy. "I think it very prudent that you stay as close to Arthur as possible."

Jade rolled her eyes.

"Tristan found a badge on one of your escorts killed in the raid," Arthur explained with the utmost gravity, "The man was a hired assassin."

Jade shrugged. "Obviously not a very good one if I am still here," she said, "Tell me, was it the one with the mustache? I've never trusted men with mustaches."

Arthur smiled hesitantly and I gave him a knowing glance. It was like it didn't even sink in with her---the peril that she was in---the danger.

"Jade," Arthur said, "You must realize how serious this is. Surely, you must. If an assassin has followed you this far, it's likely that others know you are in Britain as well."

"Arthur, what happened to that happy, goofy little boy I used to know?" Jade asked, goading him on, "When did you develop such a gloomy countenance?"

Arthur looked to me for help, but I simply shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. "It's no use, sir," I said, "I've tried to reason with her. God knows I have, but she'll hear none of it. If I were in such danger, I certainly wouldn't be so heedless. But what does she think of in such situations? Mustaches! Of all things! You will look after her, though, won't you, Arthur? I know how---close---you two are. You care for her very deeply, don't you?" I suppose I wasn't being exactly what one would call subtle at this point in time.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Yes, of course," he stammered, "She is quite safe, I assure you. No one besides myself and Dagonet knows she is here, and the false identity will make it harder for her presence to be discovered."

"False identity?" Jade asked, furrowing her brow, "Wait just a minute, I don't have to keep pretending to be a boy, do I?"

Jade looked to me; I looked to Arthur; and Arthur averted his eyes to the ceiling.

"Minnie…?"

"Dear, it's the safest thing for you," I explained, "Though we are far away from Rome, we have still not left the Roman Empire. If anyone asks, you are James, son of a noble Roman family."

Jade wrinkled her nose in disgust. "But why must I be a boy?" she asked, "If disguise is my only option, couldn't I be Sally the shepherdess? Or Bethany the bar maid? It's so awful being a boy."

"The assassins will search for a young Roman girl," Arthur explained, "You are safer this way. And James the noble Roman isn't really so bad, is he?"

"No," she replied, "Though I fear his reaction when he discovers he's a eunuch."

Arthur snorted. "Best not to tell him, then."

Jade sighed, resigning herself to the necessity of remaining incognito a little while longer.

"There, there, mistress," I said, trying to console her, "We knew when we cut your hair that this was a role you'd have to play at least for a little while."

"It will only be for a couple weeks at the most," Arthur added, "I promise you we will get to the bottom of this as soon as possible."

"I know," Jade said, forcing a smile, "I only wish I didn't make such a convincing boy."

Arthur laughed, leaning over and kissing her on the forehead. "You will always be beautiful in my eyes," he said.

I smiled smugly as Jade's cheeks became flushed with embarrassment. It should be a Spring wedding, I thought, with daisies. Jade will wear a long, white gown fitted at the waist… The deep clearing of a throat at the door presently interrupted my thoughts. Dagonet stood in the entryway holding fresh bandages and healing supplies, his large countenance filling the entire frame of the door.

"Well come in, won't you?" I snapped. Honestly, the man had no sense of timing!

"Morning," Dagonet said, nodding cordially to Arthur and ignoring my aggravated tone.

"I was wondering when you'd return," I continued, "I thought you'd be eager to check on your handiwork."

"You must be Dagonet," Jade interjected, "I'm so grateful for your tending to me so diligently last night."

"Please," Dagonet said, "Think nothing of it."

Dagonet set the supplies on the side table and went straight to work, cleaning Jade's wounds and applying fresh bandages. Meanwhile, Arthur was making his way towards the door so as not to be in the way. I scrambled after him hurriedly, however, not wanting to miss this opportunity.

"I will send Jade to see you later," I said, catching his arm.

"That would be lovely," he replied, bowing ceremoniously and exiting from the room.

I turned my attention back to Dagonet and Jade who were getting better acquainted. I felt a tinge of guilt as I watched how gentle and kind he was with her. For such a hard and formidable looking man, he certainly seemed to have a soft heart. Perhaps in my state of panic last night I had misjudged him.

"How is she?" I asked.

He seemed surprised by the sudden mildness in my voice. "The wound is mending well," he reported, "She will be fine."

"The stitches are holding?"

Dagonet clenched his jaw. "Listen," he said, "If you're going to be difficult about it, you can find someone else to---"

"Me? I'm not the one being difficult!" I protested, "I was just asking a simple question---"

Dagonet was on his feet now, towering over me. Like he could intimidate _me! _"Woman," he fumed, "If you doubt my abilities, there are other healers---"

"Other healers?" I cried, "Ha! Other healers! And would their stitches hold any better---"

"I assure you theirs would hold no better than mine," he scoffed, "And if you would only give me a chance to---"

"If you would only worry more about---"

"If you would only stop arguing…"

"---healing and stop arguing..."

We paused and stared at each other, utterly stupefied.

"Are you two quite finished?" Jade asked, a poised eyebrow arching up on her forehead.

I looked down at my feet in shame. "I apologize for my short temper," I said quietly.

Dagonet's muscles relaxed and his face softened. "And I for mine," he replied, "I have taken far too much of your time already. I will leave you two to your business."

"It was nice to meet you, Dagonet," Jade called after the knight as he left.

Dagonet gave her a small nod and smile. He did not even look in my direction, however, but promptly shut the door behind him.

"You like him, don't you?" Jade teased, once it was certain he was out of hearing range.

"I beg your pardon?" I guffawed.

"Dagonet," she clarified, "You like him."

"And what makes you think that?"

"You're always horrible to men that you like."

"Nonsense!" I protested, "I am not horrible to men I like." Then I thought it over for a moment. "Am I?"

Jade laughed. "Well you don't exactly encourage them," she said rather bluntly.

I shrugged my shoulders, brushing off her words. "My days of liking men are over anyway," I mused, "Ah, to be young and of courting age again. Speaking of which, Arthur is a rather handsome fellow, is he not?"

"Arthur?" she asked, "I had hardly noticed. He's like a brother to me, Minnie."

"Ah, but he is not your brother," I reminded her, "And he cares deeply for you. Remember that."

-------------

Jade never could be kept cooped up for very long, so it came as no surprise to me that by mid-morning she was ready to escape from the confines of her room. I objected at first, but the color had returned to her face and she seemed well enough for mild exertions, so I eventually relented. Besides, her restlessness was starting to wear on me. That girl had the spirit of wild horses and could never be contained for long.

What took more convincing, however, was her funny idea that it might look odd that a Roman boy be accompanied everywhere by his maid. Honestly, I didn't see what was so wrong with it. "But it will look so odd!" she insisted, "Boys my age are supposed to be independent." I was beginning to wonder if she was just trying to get rid of me.

"Fine," I said at last, "But don't stray too far. And don't talk to strangers! And, for heavens sake, whatever you do, don't tell anyone who you are. You may not care for your safety, but at least care for mine. Your father will have my head if anything happens to you."

Now, let me just say that if I had known then what I know now about what was going on during my absences, I would have put a stop to it immediately. I suppose, though, in that case, it was perhaps good that I did not know. Now that I am able to look back on things with new perspective, as you can imagine, I see them differently. _But_, at this point in our tale, I must admit I would have interfered exactly when and where I saw fit.

After growing tired of aimless wandering and exploration of the fort, Jade found herself in the stables, admiring a beautiful grey Andalusian horse. Jade had a gift with animals. I don't know why, but they just liked her. It was probably her gentle touch or the mutual affection she held for them. Either way, she had soon enough made friends with the animal, brushing its silky coat and speaking to it in soothing words.

She fell into rhythm with her brush strokes, entering into a sort of reverie. She lost track of time as she recounted to the animal the tale of a warrior named Baldric who fell in love with the beautiful Seraphine.

"But she was captured," Jade explained to the horse, "By armies from the north. Their leader, King Sieghard, soon became enchanted by her loveliness and decided that he should marry her, hence claiming her lands for his own. Meanwhile, Baldric was enraged at the kidnapping of Seraphine and even more outraged that nothing was being done to reclaim her."

The horse whinnied.

"Yes, I know," Jade said, "It's terrible, but Baldric was the best fighter in all the land. He went after King Sieghard and his army, cutting each soldier down one by one. Eventually he made it to Sieghard's inner circle, but not before the wedding ceremony had begun. Baldric, knowing that stealth was his only chance to save Seraphine, climbed up into a tree where he could get a clear shot at Sieghard."

Jade paused in her brushing for a moment and the grey horse looked at her with wide eyes, seemingly enthralled in the story.

"The priest was just about to declare them man and wife," she continued, "when Baldric raised his bow and took aim to the right of Sieghard's chest. He released the arrow, which flew swiftly and penetrated directly into the king's heart---"

"You shouldn't be here," Tristan interrupted, as he emerged from the shadows.

His voice startled Jade, who turned around sharply, dropping the brush to the ground. "I'm sorry, sir," she said. She bowed her head and played the part of an adolescent boy, straightening her shoulders and allowing her arms to hang loosely at her sides. "I was just leaving."

"Hey…" he called after her.

She turned and looked at him hesitatingly. She felt strangely uncomfortable in his presence. The way he looked at her made her feel exposed---like he knew her every thought, every secret. He was fixing the saddle on the grey Andalusian which she ascertained to be his. She wondered if his hawk was nearby. He had seemed less intimidating with the bird on his arm.

"The heart is on the left side of the chest," he said, as he adjusted one of the straps.

She smiled faintly, realizing the error she had made in her story. "Yes sir," she said, forcing herself to remain in character, "Thank you, sir. I'll remember that."

Jade turned and quickly made for the stable door, but the sound of his voice halted her once again.

"How does the story end?" he asked.

Jade swallowed down the lump that was rising in her throat. "Baldric saves Seraphine," she replied, "And marries her."

"Figures," he muttered to himself, "Sentimental nonsense."

"Have you never been in love, sir?" Jade asked.

The faintest outline of an amused smirk crept up beneath the scraggly beard that hid the bottom of his face. He climbed up into the saddle and rode his horse past her toward the stable door. "I know nothing of such things," he called back to her as he exited out into the courtyard.

Jade watched him leave and trailed after him with her eyes. "Ah," she said quietly to herself, "But you do know where the heart is."


	4. Chapter 4

Hey, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for reading and for your comments. You guys are awesome:)

----------

Now, one might wonder what I was doing while all this tomfoolery between Tristan and Jade was going on. Well, believe it or not, I was getting into some tomfoolery of my own. At thirty years of age, I thought myself growing rather too old for that sort of thing. If one weren't married by the time they reached my age, there was little hope. But I had not completely transformed into an old hag quite yet. I was all woman with curves in the appropriate places, and though I considered myself quite plain, there was nothing unpleasant in my appearance.

I suppose I am getting ahead of myself, though. It was little past noon when I arrived at the tavern where I discovered some rather unruly Roman soldiers with fists pounding on table tops, ready to start a brawl. Shocking! How they dared to call themselves Romans acting in such an uncivilized manner was beyond me. I knew I had to put an end to this savage behavior immediately.

"You filthy piece of scum," one of the soldiers hissed.

"Don't blame me for your poor luck, brother," the other soldier spat in derision, "You lost fair and square."

"I'll slice that cheating hand right off your wrist!" the first soldier growled, drawing his dagger from his belt.

"You will do no such thing, you tyrant!" I scolded, stepping between the two men, "Now, put that scrap of metal away before someone gets hurt."

"On your way, lady," the second soldier snarled, "This is none of your affair."

"Unless you want a piece of the action," the first added with a toothy grin, flipping the dagger in his hand.

I opened my mouth, ready to give them both a piece of my mind, when a strong hand gripped my arm and yanked me out from the heated confrontation. "Just what do you think you're doing?" Dagonet demanded as he pulled me aside.

"Teaching those miscreants a lesson," I huffed, trying to wriggle loose from his grasp, "Now, unhand me!"

"I don't think so," Dagonet said, making his way towards the other side of the tavern and dragging me along with him. We passed the table where the rest of his brothers in arms sat and the one called Lancelot gave me a flirtatious wink. Cheeky fellow!

"Sit down," Dagonet ordered when we reached an empty table.

I obliged, but not without crinkling my face in discontent first. "You didn't have to do that," I said, "I had everything under control."

"You were stirring up trouble," Dagonet replied, "That's what you were doing."

He motioned to the barmaid, who promptly brought over a mug of ale. "Did you want anything?" he offered.

"Certainly not," I scoffed, raising a critical eyebrow at him, "Do you always drink this early?"

"Do you always have to voice your opinion on everything?" he asked.

"Only when it needs to be heard," I countered, "So---yes."

Dagonet rolled his eyes and took a large swig of his drink. Something seemed different about him now. He seemed more introspective, more morose. Within minutes, the mug was empty and he called for another one. I was about to make another comment on inebriation, but the thud of a heavy pile of books slamming down on the table distracted me from berating him further.

"Well, Arthur's certainly going to keep me busy," Jade said, plopping down in the seat next to me.

"For heaven's sake," I remarked, "That stack must weigh more than you do."

"You're going to read all those?" Dagonet asked.

"Well, Arthur wants someone to share his thoughts with apparently (and believe me, he has a lot of thoughts)," Jade explained, "And I'm the closest thing he has to his old mentor, my father---"

"Shh!" I interrupted, scanning our surroundings warily, "Not so loud."

"He's written all over the margins," Jade continued, flipping through one of the manuscripts, "He wants my opinions on them."

The barmaid arrived with Dagonet's second drink and inquired if we wanted anything as well. Jade asked for a glass of water, which was promptly retrieved for her. I took the first taste, as had become habit in recent months.

"For heaven's sake, Minnie," Jade sighed with a roll of her eyes, "I hardly think the barmaid wishes to poison me."

I let the liquid slide down my throat, waiting for any mal effects to reveal themselves. "You're right," I replied at last, handing her the drink, "She's not."

"You're paranoid," Jade said, "And besides, if it were poisoned, I'd drink it anyway. I couldn't go on knowing you'd given your life for mine."

"You would do no such thing!" I gasped in horror, "I absolutely forbid you."

"You wouldn't really be in a position to stop her," Dagonet muttered into his cup. I narrowed my eyes at him. But he was looking at me strangely---in a way he had not looked at me before. I was rather unnerved by it. It was as if he were seeing me---truly seeing me---for the first time. His eyes held respect and admiration. I couldn't help but wonder what I had done to deserve it.

"Anyways," Jade interjected, taking a final sip of her drink and scooping up her books, "I really should be getting back to Arthur."

"Oh yes, of course…" I agreed eagerly, "You mustn't keep Arthur waiting."

I could tell already that those two would be inseparable. Perhaps the books were really a cover-up, just an excuse to see more of one another. Yes, I was quite positive those two would be hopelessly in love in no time. I only wished Jade were dressed in something other than those over-sized pants and tunic. A form fitting green dress to match her eyes and Arthur would be hers by nightfall.

At the same time that Jade was quitting our company, Tristan happened to be entering the tavern, heading in exactly our direction to join his fellow knights. Jade appeared unaware of this fact, however, as she collided directly into his chest. Twenty thick manuscripts would have slipped from her hands to the floor had he not grasped her by the shoulder. Clumsy girl. Clearly, I thought, she was more nervous about seeing Arthur than she had let on.

"That is one odd boy," Gawain remarked from the nearby table, where Tristan presently seated himself with an exaggerated air of boredom.

"Now, now. Adolescence is an awkward age," Lancelot quipped, "Isn't that right, Galahad?"

Galahad glared at his brother in arms.

"You would really give your life for her?" Dagonet's question shook me from my reverie and eavesdropping. He was still giving me that strange look.

"Of course," I answered without hesitation, "I couldn't love her more if she were my own daughter."

"I think about my brother knights sometimes," Dagonet confided, "the ones that we lost in battle over these fifteen years. I think that if I could, if it were possible, I'd give my life to bring them back."

"They are in a better place now," I replied in a pathetic attempt to console him.

What could one say at such a moment, after all? Words held no power over death and would not bring his brothers back. His grief touched me, though, in a way that no one's mourning ever had. On the outside, Dagonet seemed so rough and strong, but he had a soul deeper than the sea and I could perceive that inside he was crying an ocean of tears. Dagonet was a silent man, but only because his pride stifled his inner screams of desperation.

"We receive our discharge papers in only a few days time," he continued, "And I should feel happy and relieved by it. I'm free. But instead, I feel like I am leaving them behind---my brothers. Their bones are buried in the earth of this island. Do I abandon them?"

"You will carry them with you wherever your journeys take you," I said, "Seize your freedom and live it in their honor."

"I cannot but wonder," he sighed, "if true freedom can be found only in death---for I will never be free of the guilt I feel that I did not die at their sides."

His head sank between his shoulders, and I secretly wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and hold him till the pain was gone. Instead, I gently touched my hand to his shoulder. He looked up at me with wide, sorrowful eyes. I had been so very wrong about this man. So very wrong, indeed.

---------

For the rest of the day, I couldn't shake from my mind the memory of how distraught Dagonet had looked speaking of the brothers he had lost and so, feeling I should do something about it, I returned to the tavern later that evening in search of him. I found the tall knight still sitting dejectedly at that same table with only his mug of ale to keep him company. He wasn't drunk exactly, but the alcohol he had slowly consumed throughout the day had lulled him into a state of apathy and numbness. There was only one thing to do with so melancholy a man.

I grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him from his chair. "Come," I said, pulling him along behind me.

"Where are we going?" he slurred.

"You'll see," I replied.

We reached the quarters Arthur had made available for my mistress and me, and I sat him down upon the bed. He looked up at me with eyes that were regaining sobriety. "You intend to take advantage of me in my drunken state?" He posed it as a question, though it was more of a statement.

"Do you wish me to?" I asked.

His eyes glistened with arousal. "Yes," he replied.

"Then it is not taking advantage," I said as my dress fell to the floor.

----------

Beneath the night's sky, Jade had found a quiet place upon the parapet where she could study Arthur's manuscripts by candle light. Such reading material was not quite as exciting as the stories she created in her imagination, though, and soon she had fallen into her own dream world, resting her head in the crease of the book. She was fast asleep.

When she awoke, the air was crisp and cold and her candle had long since burned out. She looked dazedly around as she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The rustling of feathers in the night air sounded above her, gliding down onto an outstretched arm. He sat on top of the wall motionless and still like the stone statues of the Roman gods, but all the more frightening because it seemed that at any second he could spring to life and slice her down the middle in a single stroke of the sword that still sat fastened to his back. Tristan's face was set straight ahead, fixed in her direction, but his eyes were hidden beneath a tattered veil of dark hair so that she knew not if he were looking upon her.

Jade froze, daring not even to breathe as she stared at the silhouette of the man in the moonlight. He rose then with his hawk still perched on his forearm and slowly retreated until the darkness had fully swallowed him down into its infinite belly. Jade blinked now at the realization of her solitude, but an uncertainty crept into her mind that perhaps she had been alone this entire time. His presence---Tristan's---seemed an illusion now. He left no remnants, no lasting scent nor echo of words spoken. He simply vanished as though he had never been there in the first place.

Jade looked down at the manuscripts scattered about the floor and the candle that sat to the right---but wait! Had she not placed the candle at her left? Next to it was a manuscript she had not yet read opened to a page on weaponry and strategies of war. A chill ran up Jade's spine as she glanced up once again to where Tristan had sat. There was only darkness now and the dim light of the moon cast down in a vain struggle against the blackness of the night.

------------

"MINEEEEERVAAAA!"

Dagonet screamed my name, not my shortened name, mind you, but my full name, in piercing, fervent passion. It was our third go, and I was on top, my spine arched up, my neck crooned back, and my head lifted towards the heavens. I roared like a tigress devouring the last bit of my prey. A night with Minerva was a night a man would never forget.

Now, I was no whore, mind you, nor did I lay with every man willing. Never had I been taken against my will nor had I ever given my body to a man who I did not want to have it. Sex was a mix of business and pleasure with me. It was a pleasure because I never bedded a man who I did not believe to have the capacity to please me. It was business because I had learned over the years that if you satisfy a man in bed, he will see you are satisfied in other, more valuable ways. How do you think I managed to pull together an entire convoy to accompany us to Britain? Soldiers had needs that must be met and, by the essence of my being a woman, I was equipped with the ability to see to those needs.

And that's how I assumed it was with Dagonet. Don't get me wrong. Jade was right in her observation that I was attracted to the man, but I was no romantic. I'd lived long enough to know that the nature of sex and the nature of love were two entirely separate things, one of which I had never nor thought I would ever experience. Dagonet needed comfort, the warmth of a woman's touch, and I was there to provide him with it. I did not expect anything significant in return except that perhaps the act would serve as a treaty and truce between us. Dagonet seemed the type of man one would want at their side.

So it was because of this that, when the deed was done, I did not entreat him to linger long, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, but instead made it quite apparent that he need not feel any responsibility towards me whatsoever. I rose from the bed, collecting his garments for him and told him that, of course, if he had other things to attend to that he should not remain on my account. He lay on his back with his hands resting behind his head and followed me around the room with his eyes.

"Won't you lie with me awhile?" he asked, beckoning me back to the bed.

I hesitated for a moment. I had gratified his urge, had I not? What was there left to keep him here? "Really," I said, "You're not obliged, I promise. I take no offense nor hold any grudges."

"It's not that I feel obligated," he assured me, "But that I thought it would perhaps be nice---if you lay your head upon my chest and I with my arm about your shoulder---and we lie as such for a time. It might be nice."

"Yes," I said, "Yes, I suppose I could do that."

I was not so cruel as to deny him one more comfort so simple as that, so I slipped back under the sheets and rested my head against his chest as he instructed. And in return he wrapped his arm around my shoulder like a cloak of flesh and muscle. And it was nice. I could hear his heart beat strong and firm, and a feeling rushed over me that I had not experienced since childhood, a feeling of safety and security, of being protected, of being cared for by another. And I knew such a feeling could not last forever, so I promised myself to give into it, just for that moment, and to commit it to my memory where I could drag it forth from time to time to remember that once, if only for a fleeting second, I was cherished.


	5. Chapter 5

And, oh, what a fleeting moment it was. The door to the quarters creaked on its hinges as my mistress's pretty face could be seen in the entryway, completely unaware of what she was about to find. She halted abruptly in her tracks, her eyes exploding from her head.

"Whoa!" was her reaction, clapping her hands over her face, "I'm sorry! I'll---give you two some privacy…"

"Wait!" I called, stumbling out of bed whilst attempting to wrap my naked body in a sheet. I ended up crumbling to a tangled mess of limbs on the floor. Would the humiliation ever end?

"Please," said Dagonet, as he threw on his britches faster than an arrow zipping through the trees, "Don't go---I was just leaving." He made for the doorway, but turned to me once more before he exited. "Thank---Thank you," he stammered, "and---good night." He looked apologetically at Jade once more before bowing out and fleeing from the quarters with great haste.

I sat bewildered on the floor, tugging at the impromptu toga I had made for myself. Jade let her hands down from her face and smiled triumphantly. "I _knew _there was something going on between you two," she teased.

"It's not what you think!" I protested, "I…fell down the stairs---yes---and…he worried I might have broken a rib---and---so he wanted to check…"

"And you had to be naked for that?" she asked.

"Well…" I said, "He was---very thorough. One of the most thorough examinations I've had, actually. He's a very skilled---healer, you know."

"Oh, I can see that," she replied with a sly smile, pausing for a moment, "And how are your ribs?"

"My what?"

"Your ribs. You didn't break any, I hope?"

"Oh, no no. They're fine---I'm fine. Don't you worry your pretty head about me, mistress. I'm---fantastic."

"Good," she said, pausing again with that same mischievous grin, "So, does Dagonet always perform rib examinations in the nude?"

I threw my shoulders down in defeat and we roared with laughter. She had me on that one. When our giggling at last subsided, Jade laid beside me on the floor. I stroked her scraggly, cropped hair, as she rested her head down in my lap.

"Do you love each other?" she asked.

"Oh, child," I replied, "We hardly know each other. But no---it wasn't like that."

"Then why did you do it?" she asked meekly.

Her question surprised me. "I-I don't know," I admitted, "It's not always about love. Sometimes you just do it because it feels good."

Jade shook her head. "No," she said defiantly, "I will only do it for love---and only with one_---the _one_."_

I laughed gently. "It doesn't always work that way. We cannot all have one great love," I said, "But it is a nice thought."

"You're wrong, Minnie," she said, "There's someone for everyone. You just have to be willing to wait."

"People make mistakes," I replied in all honesty, "Not everyone has the strength to wait or the wisdom to know when it's right."

"What of Dido of Sicily?" she asked, "When the evil King tried to take her virginity, she plunged a knife through her heart."

"You and your stories," I said, shaking my head, "I hardly envy Dido of Sicily. The King must have been a horrid thing to look at for her to go to such lengths."

"Don't make fun, Minnie," Jade replied seriously, "Those stories are based in truth and just because you don't value their ideals doesn't mean that I shouldn't. I will find my soul mate or I will die alone."

"You will visit with Arthur again tomorrow, yes?" I asked, ever the subtle insinuator, "You two must have so much to talk about…"

--------------

I would be lying if I said that Jade's words did not strike a chord with me. She was so romantic, so optimistic. It made me feel downright depressed. My night with Dagonet had been like out of a dream. I had never before felt the way I did when I was lying in his arms nor had I ever felt such a distinct loneliness after it was all over. Not to mention, it was quite possibly the best sex I had ever had. Usually, I simply did my duty, though, laid with the man, enjoyed it, and, by morning, had moved on from it completely.

On this morning, however, my heart ached like a lemon being squeezed of its juices, infecting the rest of me with a sourness I could not overcome. But I had to overcome it! Dagonet was a soldier, a knight, and, most importantly, a man. Yes, he belonged to that vile class of creatures that I had only known to be shallow, lascivious, and ultimately fickle. Whatever enchantment I had experienced the night before he had surely only felt in its utmost superficiality. He had been lonely and desperate, and I had provided him comfort. That was all. He had moved on; I had not.

And that is why I did everything in my power to avoid seeing him throughout the day. Whenever he began to draw near, I would duck behind a plant or scuttle off down a corridor. I could not face him. Surely he would know---know how he had made me feel, the pleasure he had brought me---know that I wanted him, more of him, even still. He would see it in my eyes, my face, my fidgeting hands. This would not do.

I only needed a day. Just a day was all, and then I would be rid of him, forgetting him completely, erasing him from my mind. If I could just stay clear of him for one single day then everything would be how it should be. I would be cool and detached while Dagonet would be relieved of any obligation or responsibility he might possibly feel. I, Minerva, had done well enough on my own over the years. I wasn't about to go all soft now.

It was not an easy feat, but by the time nightfall came around, I had managed to steer clear of him the entire day. Dagonet had once again joined his fellow knights at the tavern and, considering it too early to retire, I wandered around the fort in the meantime searching for any sort of diversion. I found it in an old drunkard who was sitting on the ground in the alleyway with his bottle of whiskey. I took this opportunity to lecture him on the impropriety of wanton inebriation and the mal effects it could have on one's livelihood.

"No, no," I persuaded him, "You're never too old to turn your life around. You're---"

"You're avoiding me," a voice boomed from above. It was Dagonet.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, standing up to face him, "I was just having a chat with this gentleman here---"

"Was it something I said?" he asked, "Did I do something to upset you?" His sincerity was touching. Why did he have to be so damn sweet?

"No, of course not!" I said, laughing casually, "I was just giving you space is all. We both know what last night was. You don't have to pretend it was something else for my sake."

"And what _was _last night?" he asked, crossing his brawny arms over his chest.

"You were drunk," I reminded him, "We had sex. I understand if you regret it, but you owe me nothing."

"I told you last night it's what I wanted," he replied, "I have no regrets. Do you---regret it?"

"Of course not," I said, "But what could you possibly want of me now?"

"More, you fool. I want more of you," he laughed, "Damnit, why must you be so complicated?"

"Complicated? Me?" I scoffed, "If these insults are what you call seduction, then I'll have you know you are sorely mistaken and I would never come to your bed with such---"

"Impossible woman!" he grumbled and picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

"Let me down at once!" I demanded, kicking my legs and pounding on his back with my fists, "Brute! Barbarian! I said put me down!"

My pleas fell upon deaf ears, however, as he continued to march along with his prize slung over his shoulder. The old man in the alley lifted his whiskey bottle as a toast and gave a wheezing cackle.

We reached Dagonet's quarters (last night's mistake would not be repeated) and he threw me down on his bed. "Are you going to take advantage of me in this helpless state?" I asked, raising a provocative eyebrow.

"Do you want me to?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Then it's not taking advantage," he said as he crawled on top of me.

---------------

Back at the tavern, a Roman soldier approached Tristan who sat alone, slicing an apple, completely isolated from the rest of the festivities. "You there," the soldier addressed him, "You're a Sarmatian knight, aren't you? One of Arthur's men?"

"I am," Tristan muttered, not looking up from his apple.

"Ah, excellent," the soldier replied, "Tell me, do you know anything of the noble family that just arrived here from Rome? Their name, perhaps?"

"What's it to you?" Tristan asked, his voice maintaining the same steady indifference.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all," the soldier assured him, "It was rather unannounced, though, wasn't it? Their coming?"

Tristan shrugged, chewing on a piece of apple. He still could not be bothered with the effort it would take to look up at his visitor.

"Well, good evening to you then," the soldier said, realizing that perhaps Tristan would not serve as his best source of information.

What the soldier did not realize, however, was that Tristan continued to watch him from that moment on as he made his way around the tavern, collecting little bits of information from every knight he came across. Tristan's acute scouting instincts were ringing with imminent danger. When the soldier left the tavern, Tristan trailed closely behind in the shadows, making certain his presence remained unknown to his suspect.

Tristan stalked the soldier up to the parapet where Jade was sitting as she had the night before with a manuscript laid out in her lap. She was completely absorbed in her reading, small, helpless, and vulnerable. The tip of the soldier's dagger shimmered in the moonlight, but Tristan had a dagger of his own. The scout released his blade through the air before the soldier could advance another step. He fell in a heap to the ground with Tristan's dagger protruding from the left side of his head.

Jade glanced up unconcernedly from her manuscript and studied the scene before her. "A close range attack…" she recited, "…penetrating the head directly so as to stifle any outcry. Silent and effective."

"This man meant to kill you," Tristan informed her since her manner seemed to signify that she was unaware of that fact. He stooped down to remove his dagger from the man's head.

"Yes," she replied casually, "That's been happening a lot lately."

Tristan's brow furrowed beneath his braids. "You should be more careful," he said as he wiped the blood from his blade.

Jade shrugged. "I could have defended myself," she replied.

"You can't learn fighting from books," he said, his tone derisive and judgmental, "Especially that one."

Jade smiled. So it _was _he who had been perusing her manuscripts the night before. "Then teach me," she replied.

Tristan scoffed at the proposition. "Stick to your reading, boy," he said with an almost undetectable hesitation and the slightest stress on the word 'boy.' "War is no place for thoughtful scholars," he added.

Jade's heart sank like a rock in the sea, not because he refused her, but because he had addressed her as "boy." It was then she realized that she had been secretly wishing he had seen through her guise. She had doubted her ability to fool him---though she had no reason for believing she hadn't. It was just a feeling she got from him, a vibe.

"From what I understand," she replied heatedly, "a warrior must be smart, with the ability to think quickly. Perhaps you are afraid I will outwit you in a fight."

Tristan smirked in amusement. "Tomorrow then."

---------------------

The grass was wet and crunched beneath her feet as she strode out onto the field. The sky was still gray with morning clouds and the air was cool and moist. The wooden practice sword weighed down heavily on her fragile wrists. Tristan and Jade parried back and forth, each time resulting in a victory for Tristan. Jade was getting frustrated.

"Keep your feet square," he instructed, "Don't let your guard down."

Jade did as he said, making minor adjustments, and improving because of it.

"Good," he said.

They paused for a moment, staring at each other. Jade's chest heaved in and out as she tried to catch her breath. She had never seen anyone as graceful with a sword as Tristan. He mesmerized her.

The other knights were making their way onto the field now, including Lancelot who had developed a rather strong hatred for Jade---or James, as he thought she was called---because of her monopolization of Arthur. After her arrival, not only had Arthur been completely neglectful of his best friend, but whenever he and Lancelot did get a chance to talk, Arthur oozed and spewed out his ridiculous Christian nonsense, rambling on and on about free will, equality, and that old lunatic mentor of his, Pelagius.

"What is your obsession with this new Roman boy?" Lancelot had asked his friend.

"We study the written word together," Arthur had explained, a little disconcerted at the realization of what kinds of insinuations people might have been making about Jade and him.

"You spend more time with him than you do with the men anymore," Lancelot had remarked.

"Forgive me," Arthur had replied, "I suppose I have been absent lately."

"You always choose Rome over us!" Lancelot had cried in frustration, "You always choose your God over us!"

Lancelot's anger was just as strong now as he strode out onto the field. "Giving the boy a lesson, eh?" he greeted, cutting in between Jade and Tristan, "Perhaps I can teach him a thing or two."

Dagonet looked concerned. He also looked tired from his long night spent with me, but that was another story. In any case, Jade threw him a look that told him not to worry and assured him that she would be fine.

Jade turned her attention then to the cocky Lancelot and raised her wooden sword, ready to fight. The dark knight did not go easy on her nor did he hesitate to strike at her both body and limb in attempt to wear her down. This was personal. Lancelot saw her not only as a spoiled Roman boy, but also as a threat to his and Arthur's friendship. He jabbed at her time and time again, but she did not tire. It was as if she did not even feel the blows, and in truth---she didn't.

"Lancelot…" Dagonet broke in hesitantly. This was going too far.

Tristan watched the scene intently, as if trying to put together a puzzle in his mind. Lancelot struck harder and harder, but Jade would not back down. She could feel his inner rage against her and it only invigorated her to prove that she would not be subdued so easily. But to whom was she trying to prove it? Her mind, if she had only had time to stop and pause for thought, would have echoed with one name: Tristan. He was standing there watching, and she his craved respect, his pride, his...but she was too caught up in the moment, fighting off Lancelot's attacks with all her strength. Every hit only increased her determination.

"Lancelot…" Dagonet said again.

Tristan observed Dagonet with one eye and Jade and Lancelot with the other. "Numbness to pain," he said at last, more to himself than anyone else, and the words seemed to relieve him greatly, solving a problem that had been weighing on his mind.

Lancelot and Jade were lunging like animals at each other now. Lancelot caught her by the arm and twisted it behind her back. "Drop your sword," he seethed.

"No," she whispered.

"Drop it!" he ordered, twisting her arm harder.

Her face was relaxed and unchanging. "No," she repeated calmly. She spun around then, the crack of her shoulder drowned out only by the blow she gave Lancelot to the head. He released her arm and stumbled backward, pressing his hand to his brow. He was more stunned than anything, despite the fact that there was blood running down his cheek. How had that lanky, shrimp of a boy bested him?

Jade walked over to Dagonet with her head held high in triumph, as the rest of the knights looked on in disbelief. "Dagonet," she whispered when she had reached his side, "I can't move my arm."

Dagonet frowned at her in disapproval, his own quiet way of scolding her. He then lead her back to reset her dislocated shoulder.

"Well, Lancelot," Gawain teased, "Looks like you've finally met your match."

Lancelot scowled at the long-haired knight.

"Got you right in the head, he did," Bors remarked with a chuckle.

"It's a hard target to miss," Galahad chimed in.

"Alright," Lancelot snapped, "Are we just going to stand around all day or are we going to spar?"

"We spar," the knights agreed and got down to business, pairing up to practice their sword fighting.

"Tristan?" Gawain called, "You coming?"

"Hello? Tristan?" Galahad sang, "You awake?"

Tristan was staring off at Dagonet and Jade who were walking back to the fort, but he quickly snapped back to attention. He joined the knights in their training, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere---somewhere far away. His eyes seemed more elusive than usual beneath his braids and many times it seemed as though he were about to say something, but would stop himself before the words could leave his lips. He left the training field that day troubled and perplexed.


	6. Chapter 6

If you thought that I would take Jade's injury in stride, then you would be sorely mistaken. I marched myself, without delay, right up to the quarters where Dagonet was tending to my mistress and stood over them with my hands on my hips and my eyes narrowed with castigation.

"What is going on here?" I demanded.

"It's nothing, Minnie," Jade assured me, "I got hurt while fighting. That's all."

"I reset her shoulder," Dagonet added, "She'll be fine---won't even need a sling."

"Of all the calamities!" I cried, "What in the devil were you doing fighting in the first place?" I turned to Dagonet and swatted him over the head. "And what on earth were you doing letting her?"

"She was holding her own pretty well," Dagonet said with a shrug.

"Tristan was teaching me," Jade explained casually, "after the assassin tried to kill me last night."

Now I nearly fainted. "Please tell me you're not serious," I begged, clutching my erratically thumping heart, "You did not just say what I think you said."

"It's alright," Jade said, "He's dead thanks to Tristan. Everything's _fine_. _Breathe_, Minnie!"

"This is all your fault!" I huffed, whacking Dagonet over the head again.

"All _my _fault?" Dagonet guffawed, completely appalled at my insinuation, "How do you figure it's my fault?"

"You've been distracting me!" I reviled, "If I hadn't been off gallivanting with you, I would have been more attentive and none of this would have happened!"

"Don't blame Dagonet!" Jade broke in, "It's not his fault nor is it yours. If it's anyone's fault it's---"

"Oh, I was just coming to you, young lady," I interrupted sharply, "What were _you _thinking---"

"Now go easy on the girl," Dagonet interjected.

"Of course you take her side!" I said, throwing my hands up in the air, "You two are incorrigible! You act as if I've gone mad, but I tell you I am the only sane person in this room."

"Oh, Minnie, you do carry on," Jade sighed, "Dagonet, can't you think of some way to shut her up?"

They shared a wicked, conspiratory grin between them and, before I knew it, I had a pair of lips---rather delicious lips, actually---muffling my protests. "If you think," I managed to mumble between kisses, "That I'll just forget---"

"Forget what?" he asked, his lips trailing down my neck.

"I-I can't remember."

And so things went on as such, seeming too perfect to be real, no matter how cliché that sounded. People always likened the best times of their lives to dreams and the worst to nightmares. Why could they never just accept that dreams were dreams and reality was reality? Why could I not accept that Dagonet perhaps did want me for more than just sex? Why could Jade not accept that she really was in danger and that it was alright to be scared because of it? Then again, I suppose I was scared enough for the both of us.

At any rate, we were awoken from our dream-like state by the arrival of a certain Bishop Germanius of Rome, an old friend of Arthur's father who had come to bring the knights' discharge papers. He was a pompous pig of a man, and I could not stand the sight of him. More importantly, however, I was feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of what all this meant for the future. Damn my womanly weakness! I could not bear the thought of Dagonet heading back to Sarmatia, never to be seen again.

Of course, as it turned out, none of it mattered anyway. The knights were to go on a final mission before that old goat Germanius would hand over the papers. Despicable tyrant. Anyways, Arthur felt wary about leaving Jade alone at the fort without protection, especially after the last assassination attempt, and I agreed with him completely. It was therefore decided that Jade and I would accompany the men on their mission. Hoping to avoid suspicion from any nosy Romans, Jade would go under the pretence of assisting the squire Jols and I would go as a healing aid to Dagonet. It wasn't a bad plan, really.

But I'm getting ahead of myself and skipping over the part that was of special significance to me. You see, as you may well have guessed, Dagonet was rather torn up over the news that he would not be receiving his freedom as he had expected. This, while a terrible shame, once again gave me an opportunity to apply my special brand of comfort, and that is certainly nothing to be glum about.

Dagonet was glum, however, and morose and overall quite depressed. He came to me from the tavern in a terrible state and explained to me all that had passed. We then retired to his room where I sat him upon his bed and massaged the knots from his sculpted shoulders. He had removed his shirt, and his skin was firm and warm beneath my fingers. I tasted it with my lips, causing him to moan with rapture.

"You are coming with us tomorrow?" he asked.

"We are," I confirmed.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "Nothing is going as planned."

"Shhh," I replied, "It's not your fault that power and authority turn Romans into pompous bastards. And that Germanius fellow is one of the worst. I'd like nothing more than to spit on that bald head of his."

"And what would that accomplish?" Dagonet chuckled.

I paused for a moment, thinking this over. "It would make me feel better," I concluded.

Dagonet laughed at my response, but then grew very serious. He turned around and looked me square in the eyes. "Thank you," he said, "These last few days have been---"

"You speak as if this is goodbye," I laughed, trying to lighten the mood, "You forget, sir, I shall be right there with you."

"It will be dangerous," Dagonet said.

"Then you will have to protect me," I replied, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He smiled, his fingers unlacing the back of my dress. I pressed my lips to his. A cool breeze blew in from the window, stamping out the dancing flames of the lantern with its invisible feet. Darkness. I shivered as he drew me into his arms, his warmth surrounding me, and soon we were freefalling, crashing down into the depths of each other's bodies, not to hit bottom until dawn's arrival.

------------

The tension in the air the next morning was unmistakable as Jade and I joined the knights in preparation for the mission. I could see it in their faces, the creased lines of their brows, and in their bodies, the stiffening of their muscles. To look at them, one would think they'd all been stricken with some kind of frowning disease. They were sullen, taciturn, somber, and not at all to be considered pleasurable company.

I decided to engage the knight called Gawain in conversation on the topic of grooming. His hair was positively feminine with long golden locks that tumbled about his shoulders.

"It just so happens," I said, drawing near him, "That I have a pair of scissors here in my bag! We can fix you up right here and now!"

"Damnit, woman!" he shrieked, jumping back in immediate recoil, "You keep those things away from me!"

"Gawain doesn't like people messing with his hair," Galahad explained, coming to his friend's rescue.

"Well, if he insists on looking the part of a maiden," I retorted, "Perhaps you will loan him your skirt."

Honestly, men could be so vexing sometimes.

Meanwhile, as I carried on my little dispute with Gawain and Galahad, Jade helped Jols and Horton, the weasel of a manservant Germanius had ordered to accompany us, to load the supplies onto the horses. They made various trips back and forth from the stables as the knights saddled up their horses. Jade was presently making her way from the stables, her arms filled with a bundle of weapons, when Lancelot, still as petty and begrudging as the day before, came up behind her, laying his own load down on top of hers. He continued on his way with that haughty look that never seemed to leave his face. He obviously intended to make the most of Jade's inferior position as the squire's assistant. Fortunately, Tristan had been following close behind and, without a word, relieved Jade of the extra bundle. She looked up at him in surprise, but, like Lancelot, he just kept on walking as if he hadn't even noticed her in the first place. Strange man.

At any rate, we departed soon enough, making haste northwards into the forest. To be perfectly honest, the pace was a little too quick for my tastes. By the end of the day, my backside was so sore I thought I'd never be able to mount another man in my life. I could barely walk!

Needless to say, I was greatly relieved when we finally stopped for camp. We found a clearing by the river and the knights got to work collecting wood for a fire. I sat myself down on a tree stump where Dagonet joined me presently, his strong but gentle hand rubbing my aching back. I let out a gratified sigh and leant my head against his shoulder.

At the river's edge, Bors was removing his tunic, letting his pot belly roll out over his belt. "Come on!" he called to his fellow knights, splashing his foot in the water, "It's plenty warm!"

"You're crazy!" Galahad scoffed.

"Well, if you're not man enough…" Lancelot taunted, throwing his shirt to the ground and showing off his chiseled torso.

"Come on, Galahad," Gawain urged, clapping him on the back, "It'll get that stink out."

The knights were well aware of how filthy with sweat they were from the day's exertions. It would feel good to wash the grime away.

Galahad rolled his eyes and reluctantly removed his tunic. "Not like I'm looking to impress anyone," he muttered.

"You too, boy," Lancelot said to Jade, pointing towards the water.

Jade stood awkwardly with her arms crossed over her chest. "I'd rather not," she replied.

"Don't worry," said Gawain, motioning over to where Galahad was already wading into the river, "If it's warm enough for him, it's warm enough for anyone."

"Or are you above bathing with us heavens?" Lancelot sneered.

"Let it go, Lancelot," Tristan said, his voice level and even as he leaned casually against a tree. He, of course, _was_ above bathing with them and it had nothing to do with their being heathens.

"Since when do you defend Romans?" Lancelot seethed. Tristan rolled his eyes.

At this point, Dagonet and I were on our feet and ready to come to Jade's rescue. "It's not that at all," she said in protest to Lancelot's accusation.

"Then why the hell not?" Lancelot demanded, "Hm?"

"Because she's a girl," Tristan answered for her. As he said these words, it appeared as though a weight had been lifted from his chest that had been laid there since as far back as the Woad attack on the caravan.

Dagonet and I had arrived on the scene now, just in time to witness Jade's embarrassment and Lancelot's horror. "It's not true!" Lancelot gasped, "Surely, I would have---"

"Yeah," said Gawain with a chortle, "If anyone can smell a girl, it's Lancelot."

"Look at her closely," Tristan said, "And tell me I'm wrong."

Jade's head was lowered and her eyes were hot with tears. The knights studied her, a look of epiphany lighting up each of their faces. Her slender shoulders, her bright eyes, the narrow line of her jaw---how had they not seen it before? It seemed that they had become so acclimated to never paying any mind to the Romans that they had never actually taken a good look at her. Lancelot looked her up and down lasciviously, having an instant change of heart towards his previously declared foe.

"Lies!" I cried in a hopeless attempt to salvage my mistress's disguise, but it was already too late. Off to the side, Horton appeared inexplicably interested in the unfolding of these events, but I wouldn't know until later the motivations behind it.

"Enough, Minnie," Dagonet said, "Enough."

"What the hell did I miss?" asked Galahad, retreating from the river and shaking himself dry.

"A girl..." remarked a stunned Gawain, more to himself than in answer to Galahad's inquiry.

"Her name is Jade and she is the daughter of Pelagius---" Dagonet began.

"Well, that explains a lot," Lancelot muttered, thinking of Arthur's inflated zealotry as of late.

"---she came to Arthur for protection," Dagonet continued.

"You promised you wouldn't say anything!" I screamed.

"We're no longer at the fort, Minnie," he said calmly, "There's no reason to keep up pretenses."

The time for speaking rationally had long since passed. I was livid. "You betrayed me!" I cried.

"I did no such thing," he protested. His face was fierce and adamant, but mine was downright lethal.

"There's a little thing called common decency," I began, "and keeping one's word. Loyalty. Reliability."

"Oh, no," he groaned, "Now, don't start with your lectures, woman."

"I will lecture if I please!" I reviled, "And you would do well to listen."

"Here we go again," he said, "Did you ever think that if someone wanted your opinion, they would ask for it?"

"They may not want my opinion," I replied, "But they should!"

"Do you know why you lecture so much, Minnie?" he asked, his voice quiet and deadly serious, "Because the only way you can feel better about yourself is by tearing others down. You think so little of yourself, yet still you must prove that everyone else is smaller. How many countless men have you let use you? And to what purpose? You are an insecure woman and damned if I'll ever know the reason why."

I couldn't believe it. Just who did he think he was, saying such unflattering things about me, no matter how much in truth they were based? I slapped him hard across the face. It felt good, so I wound my arm back to do it again. This time, however, he grabbed my wrist just before the impact. He reached around the back of my neck with his other hand and tipped me backwards, crashing his lips down onto mine. At first, I wanted to struggle, to push him off, but instead I instinctively parted my lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

That's just how it was with us. Dagonet was the only man I'd ever met with the patience and forbearance to endure my vices and still want me despite of them. At the same time, I was the only woman who could provoke the gentle giant out of his naturally calm and silent state. I suppose that's not the most romantic basis for a relationship, but, unlike Jade, I was no dreamer.

"Umm, I hate to interrupt," Gawain interjected, "But---she's gone…"

"What?" I asked breathlessly as I came up for air.

"The girl's gone," he repeated, "Jade."

I looked around, and he was right! Jade had vanished without a sound. "Oh for heaven's sake!" I cried, throwing my arms up in exasperation, "Where could she have run off to?"

----------

Deep in the forest, Jade sat beneath a tree with her knees hugged tightly to her chest. The whole revelation of her identity had been so embarrassing, so humiliating for her. Of course, she was relieved that she could stop pretending now, but, at the same time, she only wished the truth had not come out in so shocking a manner. At present, she only wanted to get away from the rest of us for awhile to clear her thoughts. The forest was alive with the rustling of leaves like tittering children and the chirping of crickets like chattering old wives. Jade never could understand why people thought the woods a lonely place.

The sound of approaching footsteps struck a dissonant chord in nature's hymn. An old man with wiry grey hair and furs draped about his shoulders advanced towards her through an eerie mist that seemed to rise out of nowhere for the sole purpose enhancing his mystique. He had blue markings on his face and carried a long staff in his right hand.

"Jade…" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "It has been a long time."

--------------

Hey, just wanted to thank everyone again for your comments! Also, I know it's been heavily Minnie/Dag so far, but I promise there is much more Jade/Tristan to come. I'm just evil, I guess, and like to keep you in suspense. Mwahaha.


	7. Chapter 7

"Jade…" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "It has been a long time."

Jade reflexively reached for the dagger inside her boot and jumped to her feet. "Who are you?" she asked, "How do you know my name?"

The old man grinned, baring a set of yellow, rotting teeth. "A long time ago," he began, "There was a woman, a dear friend of mine, who I found sitting beneath a tree just as you were a moment ago. She had the same thoughtfulness, the same desolation… The blood of Britain flowed through her veins, but she had fallen in love with a Roman, a good man who believed in freedom, but a Roman nonetheless. I approached her where she sat, her long hair shrouding her face. She looked up at me then, and I perceived the life growing inside her womb…"

"Did you hear me?" Jade interrupted, unnerved by the strange mystic who stood before her, "I asked who you are?"

"It was his child—the Roman's," the mysterious old man continued, "And he would eventually take the child away from this island to raise her in the land of his birth…"

"I don't understand," Jade said, "What are you talking about? What does this have to do with anything?" The old man was clearly insane.

"The woman beneath that tree was your mother, Jade," he answered, "The child she carried was you. I am Merlin, and I have been waiting for your return."

"No," Jade said, shaking her head, "No, that's not true. My mother was Roman, same as my father."

"Your mother was a Briton," Merlin said, "As are you."

"No," Jade replied, turning from him, "You are mistaken."

"You were very young when your father Pelagius took you away," Merlin continued with his unrelenting elusiveness, "You perhaps do not remember your mother."

He was right, of course. Jade held no memory of her mother at all. She remembered living in Briton and she remembered Arthur, but her mother was just a shadow, a hallow outline. Her mother was but a faceless figment of a person who must have existed, the only evidence of which being Jade herself who had to have come from somewhere. Jade had always just assumed that her mother had died giving birth to her. Pelagius never spoke of her, and Jade had never had the courage to ask about her.

"I don't believe you," Jade said, "I can't."

"You will in time," Merlin replied, reaching inside his furs, "I have something for you. Pelagius gave it to your mother for safe keeping, but I suppose it belongs to you now."

Merlin held out an old, weathered scroll in his hand, gesturing for her to take it. Jade took the parchment from him and gazed at its contents. She gasped at the sight of her father's handwriting and quickly tucked the scroll away in her pocket. This old man, this magician called Merlin, was telling the truth, and the scroll was of the utmost importance. She had to return it safely to her father.

"My mother," Jade said, "What happened to her?"

"Your mother was a Woad, a warrior in my tribe. She fought as we did for the freedom of her people," Merlin replied, "She died in battle not but five years ago. I'm sorry."

Jade nodded, letting everything sink in. Her mother had been alive!—alive for so many years, and all the while Jade had not known it. "Why are you telling me all this?" Jade asked, "What do you want of me?"

"You are traveling now to the estate of Marius Honorus," Merlin said, "Is this correct?"

Jade narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "And if we are?"

"My daughter," Merlin explained with the slightest quiver of his bottom lip, "She needs your help. There is…a building made of stone…she is trapped…Please…"

Merlin's expression suddenly stiffened and his eyes fixed then on some object behind her. Tristan stood with his arrow poised and aimed directly at the old man's heart. The scout's approach had been soundless. His face held nothing, no expression of hostility nor fiery gaze, just the knowledge of his power, the knowledge that with the effortless release of his arrow, the enemy would fall before him instantaneously.

That power slipped through his fingers faster than any arrow, however, as Jade reacted immediately by stepping in front of the dark magician and shielding him from Tristan's aim. "No," she said firmly, holding her hands up in surrender, "He means no harm."

Tristan tightened his grip on his bow and adjusted his stance. "Neither do I," he said with the slightest of smirks, "Now, stand aside."

"No," Jade persisted, "I won't let you hurt him."

"Remember…" Merlin whispered in her ear, "The building…my daughter…please…"

Jade spun around to face him, but the old mystic had vanished. A thick mist had settled at the edge of the clearing. The full moon shined in the night sky like a single eyeball on a dark, shadowed face observing her, following her with a blank, pupilless stare. She felt as though somewhere hidden and elusive, Merlin was still watching her.

A firm, warm hand gripped her wrist. "Come on," Tristan said, "Let's go."

Jade nodded as if still in a trance and allowed him to lead her away from the clearing. "Your hands are like ice," he noted.

"Oh," Jade said, slipping her wrist from his grasp and rubbing her hands together to warm them, "I didn't realize."

Tristan took long strides back towards the camp and, though he was not walking especially fast, Jade found herself having to take several steps for each of his in order to keep up. "You should have let me kill him," Tristan said, a tinge of bitterness laced in his voice, "What did he want of you?"

"Nothing," Jade replied as casually as she could manage. She could barely admit to herself everything that had passed, much less explain it all to him.

"I see," Tristan muttered cryptically. Jade couldn't tell if he had believed her or not.

"He wanted my help," she confessed finally, "But I don't know if I can—help him, that is. I don't know what to do."

"Merlin is a Woad, our enemy," Tristan said matter-of-factly, "He can't be trusted."

"He's no enemy of mine," Jade replied, "and has given me no reason to mistrust him."

Tristan stopped then and turned to her. "He may not be your enemy," Tristan said sternly, "But you are a Roman and therefore are his. Do not mistake his manipulation for mercy."

'_But I'm not Roman—not entirely,_' Jade thought to herself, but dared not say it out loud.

"You're not taking this seriously," Tristan said. Was he not being clear?

"Yes, I am," Jade insisted, "I just happen to think you are wrong."

Tristan sighed. She was unnaturally calm, he thought, especially for a Roman girl. "You are not easily frightened," he said.

"No."

"Perhaps you should be."

"Why?"

"You do not feel pain," Tristan stated simply, "which is your body's way of telling you it is hurt. Fear warns it of danger, but you do not feel that either."

"Tell me, Tristan," Jade said, "What are _you _afraid of?"

Tristan smirked. She had a point.

-------------

"For heavens sake!" I berated upon my mistress's return, "Where on earth did you run off to? You had me worried to death."

"I just went for a walk," Jade replied, "Tristan was with me—I was perfectly safe."

"Yes…" I said, running my eyes up and down the ragged scout, "I'm sure."

Jade found a place to sit by the fire with the rest of the knights, and I joined her shortly. She seemed uncertain around them at first, but they accepted her warmly, asking her questions, and seemed genuinely interested in her answers. I noticed, however, that my had her slender arms wrapped tightly around her body and that she was shivering from the cold. I leaned over to Arthur who was sitting beside me and whispered in his ear the suggestion that perhaps Jade might be in need of his cloak. He nodded in agreement and was about to stand when he was intercepted by his first knight!

"Allow me," said Lancelot, draping his cloak about her shoulders.

"Thank you," she replied with a timid smile.

"Listen," Lancelot said, taking a seat close beside her, "I hope there are no—hard feelings between us…I mean…if I had known…"

"Don't worry about it," Jade said, brushing off his apology.

Lancelot offered her a dashing smile in return. Tristan rose abruptly.

"Where are you going?" Gawain asked.

"To keep watch," Tristan muttered curtly and stalked off into the trees.

It was getting late and the fireside conversation soon came to a lull. We had all settled in for a night's rest and I, without dispute, had the most comfortable spot, tucked safely inside Dagonet's arms. Jade shifted restlessly where she was settled. She couldn't stop thinking about all that Merlin had said. She felt in her pocket where she had hid her father's scroll and looked over where Arthur lay. Had he known all along about her mother and Pelagius? Why had neither he nor her father ever said anything about her? But she didn't want to think of that now. She would wait to confront him about it until after he and his men had completed their mission. Then there would be time to figure out this labyrinth of revelations about her past.

Jade eventually gave up trying to find a comfortable position and wandered off in search of one who she knew would still be awake. Tristan sat beneath a tree with his hawk perched on his arm, stroking the bird's feathers affectionately. He did not look up at her, though he had sensed her approach long before she had presented herself.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Couldn't sleep," she explained.

"Mmm," he grunted in response.

Jade sat down beside him and pulled Lancelot's cloak tighter around her shoulders. She could feel the heat of Tristan's gaze on the fabric and the cloak suddenly felt very out-of-place around her body. It was as if Lancelot were actually present, intruding on them and invading their company. For a moment, she considered throwing off the cloak and tossing it aside, but she feared Tristan's reaction to such a maneuver and the night was growing colder every second.

They sat in awkward silence, Jade fidgeting with the ends of the garment. "I had a dream about your hawk," she confessed.

"Did you?" he asked, more interested than he would let his voice reveal.

"Yes," she replied, "On the night we arrived at the fort."

"Some say that the hawk serves as an omen in dreams," he said.

"I don't really believe in omens," she admitted, "Is the hawk a good omen or a bad one?"

"Which would you like it to be?" he asked.

"A good omen, I suppose."

"Then that's what it is."

"I think you're lying," she laughed.

"It doesn't really matter," he replied, "if you don't believe in them."

Jade smirked. He had a point.

"You want to hold her?" Tristan asked, offering the bird to her. Jade nodded and extended her arm to receive the hawk. Her arm trembled under its weight.

"She's heavy," Jade noted.

"Yes," Tristan said and took her arm in his hand to steady it. With a flutter of its wings, the hawk took off into the sky. But Tristan's hand remained where it was, his thumb running gently over her bare skin. Their eyes met for an instant, but they each quickly looked away. Tristan dropped his hand to his side.

"Tell me something," Jade said after a moment's silence, "How did you see through my disguise? Honestly?"

"Because you make a terrible boy," he replied frankly, "No offense."

She laughed. "None taken." And that was the truth.

Jade fell asleep there next to Tristan. He watched her curiously, wondering what she dreamt of, wondering how she could be so at peace. He remembered when he had found her a few nights before, buried in manuscripts up on the parapet. She had been so sound in her sleeping that she had not even awoken at the touch of his hand which he had brushed lightly across her face. He did this again now, allowing the tips of his fingers to slide gently along her cheek. She leaned unconsciously into the warmth of his touch, but did not stir. He gazed at her a moment more and then lifted her in his arms, carrying her back to the fireside and laying her down where everyone else slept. The forest was best watched alone and without distraction.

-------------

We arrived the next day at the estate of Marius Honorus. It was an all too familiar and terrible sight. The laborers there were overworked, malnourished, and clearly abused. Britain turned out to be not so different from Rome, after all.

The state of the villa enraged Arthur, however, who did not think twice before hurling threats at Marius. An old man chained up by his arms soon caught Arthur's attention and the commander rushed to his aide. He shouted of freedom and justice while Marius' son Alecto looked on in awe.

Arthur's eyes focused presently on something across the courtyard. Jade stood in front of a strange, dungeon-like building, running her hands along its stones. She looked as though she were in a trance as she searched for a door that did not exist.

"Dagonet," Arthur said, "We're going to need your axe."


	8. Chapter 8

Jade ran her tiny hand along the cold, ragged stones that were piled in front of the building, preventing anyone from going in or coming out. Merlin's grey face seemed to appear on the surface of every stone, urging for her to break through them, pleading for her to help. I watched the scene in utter stupefaction. What was she doing?

Dagonet laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "Stand aside a moment," he said.

Jade did as he asked, joining Arthur's side. Together they watched anxiously as Dagonet pummeled through the wall of boulders with his axe. Behind the stones lay a locked door which he kicked open with ease at Arthur's request. Jade darted immediately into the building, thinking nothing of the danger that might await her inside. Foolish girl!

"Jade! Wait!" Arthur called after her.

"Jade!" I shouted, running after her. That girl was going to get herself killed one of these days, but it wouldn't be this day if I had anything to do with it. Dagonet halted me at the entrance, however, holding me by the arm and preventing me from going in after her.

"Wait here," he ordered, "We'll be right back."

I nodded in compliance, though complying was the last thing I had in mind. I followed right behind Arthur and Dagonet who were joined shortly by Lancelot and Gawain. Once inside, I rushed over to my mistress who was kneeling beside one of the dungeon cells. There were two dirty and rather insane looking monks shrieking at her and trying to pull her away. A girl sat inside the cell, and she and Jade were staring intensely at each other with a strange sort of recognition despite the fact that they had never met.

That girl was Guinevere, and I thought her a wench from the second Arthur carried her out of that prison. How heroic! How romantic! How terribly this could ruin my plans! Arthur and Jade were practically engaged in my mind and this skinny little witch was going to do her best to interfere. I just knew it!

Arthur laid Guinevere on the ground and bade her drink some water. Meanwhile, she mooned at him with adoring eyes. Sickening!

"She's a woad," Tristan said, sliding his sword back into its sheath and looking meaningfully at Jade.

Jade evaded his glance and knelt beside Guinevere, taking her hand. She sensed that Tristan knew full well that Merlin was behind all this, but she didn't care. The sight and smell of the rotting corpses inside the dungeon had incited a fire within her, a rage against people who thought it their right to oppress others. Her father's voice was screaming in her head so that she could no longer discern the lines that designated Romans, Saxons, Woads, Sarmatians… Instead, she saw the only line that mattered: the line drawn between the guilty and the innocent.

Dagonet had found a child in the prison, a pitifully dirty boy with a broken arm. He presently carried the boy into one of the wagons that was being loaded with supplies. The Saxons were near. We could hear their war drums reverberating against the snow crested mountains. Arthur had given the command that the villagers were to come along with us, despite how significantly they would slow us down. The mission to rescue Alecto and the Honorus family from the Saxon invasion was becoming more dangerous all the time.

Everyone was packed and ready to go when I jumped in the wagon alongside Dagonet. I gave the boy a big smile. "Hello, sweetheart!" I said warmly, "I'm Minerva, but you may call me Minnie."

The boy whimpered and buried his head in Dagonet's chest, clutching tightly to the knight's arm. "I don't think he likes you," Dagonet chuckled.

"Hmmph," I replied, "I don't see why he wouldn't."

The little boy, whose name we discovered to be Lucan, peeked his head out again to catch another glimpse of me. "I won't hurt you!" I said as gently as I could manage, opening my arms to him.

Lucan fainted.

"It's for the best," Dagonet remarked, "I'll set his arm while he sleeps."

"Set his head right while you're at it," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" Dagonet asked.

"Well I don't understand why he doesn't like me!" I grumbled, "I'm great with children!"

Dagonet shook his head at me and laughed. He looked back down at the boy, though, and sighed, growing very serious. "He's suffered greatly."

"But why does he fancy you of all people!" I complained, "I'm not the one wielding a big axe around after all."

"Thank the gods for that," he retorted.

Despite the fact that I hadn't exactly won over Dagonet's new little friend, the day did start to look up when Arthur came in to check on Guinevere. He pushed her fingers back into place, a painful act, and then she fainted. Hardly romantic. I was pleased. Later on, they began fighting over politics and I was even more pleased.

"Listen, lady," Arthur snapped, "Don't pretend you know anything about me or my men!"

Yes, I was quite confident that Guinevere posed absolutely no threat to Jade and Arthur's betrothal at all. Arthur hated her! And she didn't appear to take too kindly to him either. Add to this the fact that Guinevere and Lancelot had afterwards engaged in quite the little interlude about rain and snow and heaven. Sentimental stuff. That Lancelot was a charmer and, for once, I was grateful for it.

"What are you so happy about?" Dagonet inquired suspiciously.

"Hmm?" I said, "Oh…nothing."

"Nothing, my ass," he replied.

"It's just that I'm glad Lancelot and Guinevere are getting along so well," I mused.

"Lancelot gets along with anything in a skirt," Dagonet replied, "Why do you care?"

"No reason," I said, shrugging my shoulders casually.

"I know that self-satisfied look," he persisted, "What are you up to?"

I smiled and sighed in defeat. This man knew me too well. "Alright," I confessed, "To tell the truth, I was a little concerned that she and Arthur…you know…"

"What?"

"It's just that Jade and Arthur were _meant _for each other," I said, "Ever since they were children…"

"Jade and Arthur?" Dagonet asked, "I thought she liked Tristan?"

"Tristan!" I guffawed, "Why would you think a thing like that?"

Dagonet shrugged. "Just a vibe I get."

"Well you're completely wrong!" I protested, wrinkling up my nose at the thought, "I mean he's so…and she's so… It would never happen."

Dagonet shook his head in dismissal, turning his attention back to his young patient. Lucan slept restlessly, snuggled under a blanket. His face was sweaty from the fever. I took a damp cloth and pressed it to his forehead. I could tell already that Dagonet held strong affections for the boy. He was an extraordinary man. It was that moment that I realized I loved him. Shit.

---------------

We made camp that evening in a clearing by the river. I elbowed Dagonet in the ribs as we passed by Lancelot who was being a lascivious lout, watching Guinevere bathe. Later on, however, Dagonet pointed out Arthur who was following Guinevere into the forest. '_Damnit!_' I thought. I looked around frantically for Jade, but she was nowhere in sight. Honestly, why couldn't that girl ever stay in one place for once?

Little did I know, however, that Jade had not wandered too far off at all this time. She was standing by a tree where she observed with curiosity as Guinevere led Arthur to a late night meeting with Merlin, a meeting unannounced to the Roman commander. Jade had not known of Guinevere's intentions to convince Arthur to make a pact with the Woads, but Merlin's sudden appearance to Arthur did not surprise her. She might have suspected there was more to all this than she had seen on the surface.

A greater surprise came when Tristan snatched her wrist. She hadn't even heard his approach. He spun her around roughly to face him. "What's going on here?" he demanded, nodding his head towards Arthur, Guinevere and Merlin. He kept his voice barely above a whisper so as not to alert them to Jade's and his presence.

"I don't know," Jade whispered back, her eyes still wide from the startle he had given her, "I swear, I had no idea…"

Tristan's face held mistrust. "You knew of her presence in that prison," he accused, "Merlin told you—"

"Merlin asked for my help," Jade said, "And I did what was right."

"He is our enemy," Tristan replied pointedly, "As is she."

"Rome is his enemy," Jade clarified, "And from what I've seen today, perhaps he has good reason for it."

No matter how hard she tried, she could not shake the image of those rotting bodies from her mind. They had been her mother's people, persecuted by deranged Roman nobles such as Marius Honorus. She could do nothing now but question everything she had formerly believed to be true. What would her father do in such a position?

Tristan tightened his grip around her wrist. "I serve Rome," he snarled, "And we have been fighting the Woads for fifteen years…"

"And Rome is leaving," she said, "Who will the Woads be to you then?"

"What are they to you now?" Tristan asked, "What concern are they of yours?"

Jade hesitated. She was losing circulation in her arm, and Tristan was so near to her now that she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. How could she make him understand?

"We are not so very different, Tristan," she whispered softly, "You look at others and see only their potential of death by your sword, regardless of their birth. You kill indiscriminately. I look at a person, any person, and see only their potential for freedom."

He released his grip on her wrist and leaned back on his heels, scrutinizing the wide-eyed girl before him. She could not read his expression, his reaction to her statement. He removed the dagger from his belt and admired its sharp blade.

"You think me a killer?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement, "If I kill indiscriminately, what would stop me from killing you now?"

Jade narrowed her eyes, calling his bluff. She grabbed the blade of his dagger and slid her hand along the edge, letting it slice deeply into her palm. "You could slit my neck," she replied, her voice steady and unwavering, "And I would not feel a thing."

She then raised her hand to show him the crimson blood trickling out from the wound. He stared at it, his eyes dancing with arousal. Jade held his gaze as she smeared the blood across his cheek. Before she could remove her hand from his face, however, he grabbed her wrist once more, holding her palm to his lips. His tongue slid along the cut as he sucked it dry.

Jade's heart quickened, and her face felt warm and flushed. Tristan was holding her hand in his now, his thumb lightly caressing her knuckles. He tucked his dagger back in his belt and traced a line along her neck with his finger. He leaned in close, his breath on her ear. "You're safe from me," he whispered.

His body pressed against hers, pushing her back against the tree. She wrapped her arms around his neck, accepting his advances. She wanted him. More than anything, she wanted him in that moment. Her heart had stopped beating altogether now and she had long ago forgotten to breathe. She sank into his embrace while his lips moved closer and closer to hers, ready to meet for the first time, when—

"Jade!" I called, "Jaaaade! Where are you?"

The moment shattered to the ground at their feet. Jade exhaled in disappointment, searching Tristan's eyes for some course of action. Why couldn't they just disappear for a little awhile? He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

"You should go," he whispered.

Jade nodded, removing her arms from his shoulders. She turned from him then, making her way over to where I was searching. Tristan did not follow, but stood staring at the spot on the tree where her back had rested. He let the tips of his fingers rest against the bark and closed his eyes. Her face was as clear in his memory as if she were still standing before him. He licked his lips and swore he could taste her on them.

"I'm right here, Minnie," Jade greeted.

"Child!" I scolded, "Where have you been?"

"Just out for a walk," she replied.

"Are you feeling alright, dear?" I asked, "You look flushed."

"I'm fine," she said quickly.

"Good," I said, "By the way, Arthur wants to see you."

"Arthur?"

"Yes," I said, shuffling her along back towards the campsite, "Hurry up now!"

Jade found Arthur resting by the riverbank. "Evening Arthur," she greeted, "Minnie said you wanted to see me?"

Arthur furrowed his brow in puzzlement. "She did?" he asked, "I can't imagine why. I don't remember saying anything to her…"

"Oh," Jade said, shifting awkwardly, "That's strange…"

"But I'm glad you're here," Arthur added quickly, "I'm in such a predicament. What I wouldn't give for your father's advice right now."

"What's going on?" Jade asked, taking a seat beside her old friend, "Perhaps I could help?"

Arthur took her up on the offer. He explained to her what had passed with Merlin and, in return, she told him about her mother. Arthur was shocked. Jade's mother had been as much a mystery to him as to her. He shared with her, however, that his mother had been a Briton as well. They spent the entire night talking about Britain and the fate of the Woads now that the Saxons were invading. Jade and Arthur's hearts were torn between Britain and Rome, and the time had come for them to make a choice.


	9. Chapter 9

The stars were fading into the grey morning sky when Tristan retrieved the saddle for his horse. Jade and Arthur's late night chat had ended only a few hours before and Jade slept now by the ashes of the extinguished fire. The rustling of the saddle and the jingle of the reigns, however, awakened her from her slumber. She looked up at the scout with green eyes that were swollen from interrupted dreaming.

"Shhh," Tristan whispered, putting a finger to his lips, "It's early. Go back to sleep."

"Where are you going?" she whispered back.

"Scouting."

Jade stood, brushing the dirt from her pants. "I want to go with you."

"No," he replied, "Stay here—where it's safe."

"You think I can't defend myself?" she asked, taking mock offense.

"I've seen you fight," he reminded her.

"Oh," she said playfully, "You mean the time I bested Arthur's first knight?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of the scout's mouth. "Fine," he said, "But you must be on guard at all times and do exactly as I tell you."

"Fine," she agreed with a broad smile. The drowsiness had vanished from her face and was replaced now by cheeks colored with vigor and eyes bright with excitement.

Tristan offered her his hand and helped her into the saddle behind him. He then took her arms and wrapped them around his waist. "Hold on," he said as he kicked his horse into a canter.

Jade leaned forward in the saddle as they galloped into the forest, her body pressed tightly against his, the ends of his hair and braids brushing against her face. Her hands were locked stiffly around his stomach, intensely aware of the intimacy of the embrace. The air was cold, but fresh in her lungs and the scent of pine filled her nostrils as she breathed it in.

Tristan pulled up on the reigns abruptly and his horse's hooves slid to a halt. "Look there," he whispered, pointing towards a doe that stood partially hidden in the brush.

Jade gasped. It was a magnificent creature, with long graceful limbs and silky tan fur. The doe chewed lazily on a blade of grass, completely unaware she was being watched. Nearby, a bow string vibrated after the release of an arrow. The doe's ear perked up at the sound of something whizzing through the air, but it was too late. The bolt penetrated her heart and she sunk to the forest floor.

Jade started to cry out, but Tristan clamped a hand over her mouth. A red bearded man emerged from behind a tree, making his way over to the animal's corpse and throwing it over his shoulder. "Saxon," Tristan whispered.

The word had barely left his lips before four more men jumped out from their hiding places, making themselves known by their roars that echoed through the trees. Tristan immediately dismounted from the saddle, drawing the curved sword from the sheath on his back. Two of the men came at him with brandished weapons and murderous glares, but the scout cut them down with ease, their bodies crashing to the ground and their blood mixing with the grass's morning dew.

The next two men approached with greater caution, eyeing the scout warily and gripping their swords in anticipation. Meanwhile, the red bearded man dropped the doe from his back and ambled like a prowler through the brush towards where Jade waited on horseback. He ambushed her from behind, throwing her to the ground on her back.

She yelped, looking to Tristan, but he was already occupied with his two assailants whose heads he presently knocked from their shoulders with a swing of his sword. The red bearded man scowled at her. He reached for the machete in his belt and raised it high over his head. Jade clenched her teeth in defiance. She quickly felt for the dagger in her boot, took aim, and let it fly.

When Tristan turned back to Jade, she was already on her feet, staring down at her victim. Her eyes were fixed on the dagger that had penetrated the Saxon's chest and the dark red liquid that oozed from his motionless body. She drew in deep, calm breaths and her face was blank and expressionless.

Tristan approached slowly and touched his hand lightly to her shoulder. "It gets easier," he said.

"I don't regret it," she replied, still not removing her eyes from the corpse.

"Good."

Tristan wiped the blood from his sword and slid it back into its sheath. Jade turned and watched him as he did this, noting the satisfaction that glowed on his face.

"You take pleasure in it, don't you?" she asked, "Killing."

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. He stooped over and picked up the armor piercing that lay beside one of the dead Saxons.

Jade peered up at him with innocent curiosity. "Why?" she asked.

Tristan was examining the weapon in his hands. "It's like seawater," he explained, "The more you drink of it, the thirstier you get. The urge to kill is likewise insatiable."

"I will only ever kill out of defense," Jade said firmly, "for myself or for others."

"Yes," Tristan agreed, "But that doesn't mean you can't enjoy it."

-----------------

I was having a fantastic dream. Dagonet and I were making love on a bed, yes, a real bed with silk sheets and plump feather pillows, not the cold, wet, hard, rocky, uneven ground where my aching back currently rested. God almighty, I was still only thirty and much too young to have an aching back. Anyway, in the dream, I was just about to climax when that little boy Lucan walked in on us and screamed.

Except, Lucan's scream hadn't only been in my dream! I awoke to a pair of hands roughly pulling me to my feet. They belonged to one of Marius Honorus' personal guards. "Let me go!" I shrieked. I struggled to break free, but the guard was holding me tightly by the wrists. There was only one thing to do. I bit him. Sunk my teeth right into his hand, that's what I did. He yelped, involuntarily releasing me from his grasp.

I stumbled away, surveying the situation at hand. Marius was holding Lucan by knife point while Dagonet fought off two soldiers. "I'll kill him!" Marius shouted.

"Over my dead body!" I shouted back, but apparently that's exactly what they had in mind because the guard who had attacked me before came at me again, this time pressing his sword to my neck. I stomped on his foot, but he only dug the blade deeper into my skin.

"Hold still," he growled, his hot breath on my hair. He smelled of cow dun and rotten fish. The brute was in desperate need of some hygiene advice. My nostrils could hardly take it anymore. I wriggled desperately in his grasp despite the scraping of his sword against my neck.

"Hold still," he barked again, "Or I'll slit your throat."

"Would a bar of soap change your mind?" I winced. It was a hopeless bribe.

An arrow whistled through the air, however, embedding itself in Marius' chest. Guinevere emerged from the trees with bow in hand, followed closely behind by Arthur and Lancelot. No longer Marius' hostage, Lucan fled to Dagonet's side.

'_Fine,_' I thought, still restrained by the filthy guard, '_Don't spare an arrow for me._'

Fortunately, Dagonet had found his axe and was presently making his way towards my captor. His nostrils were flaring with rage and his mouth was turned down in a menacing scowl. The guard released me immediately, dropping his sword to the ground. I raced into Dagonet's arms, and he held me tight, stroking the back of my hair.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"That man smelled horrible," I sniffled.

Dagonet laughed. I spotted Lucan out of the corner of my eye and knelt down in front of him. "Everything's okay, dear," I assured him, but he fled from me and hid behind Dagonet's legs.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" I sighed, throwing my hands up in the air, "I give up." What else could I possibly do to get this child to like me?

The sound of galloping hooves grew closer as Tristan and Jade rode back to camp. "How many d'you kill?" Bors called out to the scout.

"Four," Tristan replied.

"Not a bad start to the day!" Bors remarked.

Tristan dropped the Saxon weapon at Arthur's feet. "Armor piercing," he said, "They're close."

"You ride ahead," Arthur ordered.

I stared in shock as Jade dismounted from Tristan's horse.

"Perhaps it was more than just a vibe," Dagonet said, a self-satisfied smile spreading across his face.

"Rubbish. Utter rubbish," I replied, shaking my head and sticking my nose in the air defiantly, "Arthur and Jade spent the entire night talking together, you know."

"The entire night talking?" Dagonet snorted, "That's moving a little fast, don't you think?"

I glared at him. That man's tongue had so many other, more creative uses than sarcasm.

-------------------

Once we were on the road again, Arthur felt obliged to give his condolences to Marius' son Alecto. I couldn't see why. Who that hussy Guinevere shot with her bow and arrow wasn't his responsibility, after all. Alecto was appreciative of the apology, though, or at least he seemed so. I was in the wagon with Dagonet farther ahead, so their voices were soft and muffled from the distance between us. They weren't talking about anything interesting anyway.

"My father lost his way…" Alecto was saying.

Well, the kid was right about that. I felt sorry for him, having to grow up with such a monster of a father. What a terrible childhood he must have had. My mind wandered to all the corrupt nobles we had known back in Rome. Power ruined people, plain and simple.

"…they had him excommunicated and killed…"

Wait, what? My ears perked up at that part. Who was Alecto talking about? Whoever it was, the news of their death affected Arthur greatly. He had halted his horse, his face stricken with terror and loss. A chill ran up my spine. Something wasn't right.

The Saxons were gaining on us, so we had to pick up our pace through the mountains. We followed the trail until we reached an ice-covered lake. Why the hell the trail led directly into a lake was beyond my apprehension, but Tristan said we must cross it and so cross it we did.

Arthur ordered everyone out of the wagons and to spread out. I was sure that the ice was going to crack beneath us. This was all Tristan's fault. What kind of scout was he that he couldn't even find a direct route? The Saxons were only minutes behind us now. Their drums grew louder and louder.

And so the knights decided it was time to confront those percussion loving invaders. Jade and Guinevere agreed that they would stay and fight as well, while the rest of the fleeing villagers would continue on their way, tracking the coastline.

"Are you people bloody insane?" I cried, "You're going to get yourselves killed!"

"Minnie," Dagonet said, looking firmly into my eyes, "Go with the others."

That same chill ran up my spine again and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. In my mind, I saw Dagonet lying dead on the ice, his body hard, his lips cold and purple. "No," I replied, "I'm not leaving you—or my mistress. I'm staying."

I retrieved a club from the supply wagon and found a place behind the knights who stood in a line with bows and arrows ready. "What are you going to do with that?" Dagonet asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm going to swing it at any one of those bastards that comes near you," I answered.

"Oh," Dagonet said with a chuckle, "I feel much better now."

Jade grabbed a bow and took a place in the line next to Tristan. "Got a taste for it, did you?" he asked with a smirk.

"Can't let you have all the fun," she replied.

They were mad, all of them. The Saxons had an entire army and they were only nine archers. Sure, Arthur was a good commander and his idea to break the ice by aiming for the wings and making the approaching Saxons cluster was not a bad idea; it just wasn't very effective in the end. The ice refused to crack. The Saxons were getting closer and closer. There were so many of them. How would we survive? For some reason, my conversation with Dagonet in the tavern kept echoing in my mind. _"I think about my brother knights sometimes,"_ he had confided,_ "the ones that we lost in battle over these fifteen years. I think that if I could, if it were possible, I'd give my life to bring them back."_

Dagonet grabbed his axe and charged out onto the frozen lake towards the Saxon army. I screamed. I screamed so loud and so long, as if the strength of my voice could reel him back in to me. Dagonet, my brave knight, my lover, raised his axe over his head and plowed it into the icy surface. He was sacrificing his life to save us all.

"Cover him!" Arthur shouted.

Arrows soared across the lake, finding their resting places in Saxon flesh. But it was not enough. The Saxons had arrows of their own and they aimed for Dagonet's heart, the heart I wanted so desperately to belong to me. Dagonet stumbled to his knees as the bolts embedded in his shoulder and ribs. He lifted his axe one last time and crashed it down, this time penetrating the surface and sending a giant rift through the ice. The Saxon army plummeted into the depths of the lake.

Arthur dashed out across the breaking ice to rescue his knight with Bors and me following closely at his heels. Dagonet was sinking into the icy water, but we quickly pulled him out, dragging him to safety. I pressed my hands to his cheeks as he lay lifelessly on the ice. He was very cold, too cold, and his complexion was a deathly blue.

"Dagonet, stay with me!" Bors cried, "Dagonet. Stay. With. Me."

"It's all my fault," Arthur said, his face tormented and twisted in despair.

Jade touched her hand gently to my back. "Minnie…"

"No!" I screamed, "It's not too late!"

I frantically pulled the arrows from Dagonet's flesh and laid over him, rubbing the circulation back into his limbs and pressing the warmth of my body to his. "You cannot leave me," I cried, tears rolling down my face, "I will not allow it. Please. Come back."

_Dagonet,_

_If you are gone, who will lie by my side tonight?_

_Who will I share the sunrise with?_

_Who will I share my life with?_

_If you are gone, who will see inside my soul?_

_Who will see my every fault?  
__  
Who will stay despite them all?_

_Dagonet,_

_If you are gone, then I am gone._

_The best of me will fly to heaven with you._

_And the rest of me will die without you._

"Minnie." The voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Dagonet!" I exclaimed in relief, "Oh, Dagonet!"

"Minnie…" he said, gasping for air, "I…can't…breathe…"

"Oh God," I said, "What's wrong? What do I do?"

"Get…off…me…"

I rolled off from on top of him and observed anxiously as his chest filled with air. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks as I planted kisses all over his face. He was alive! Dagonet was alive!


	10. Chapter 10

We made camp early that night, still a day's journey from Hadrian's Wall. I stayed inside the wagon with Dagonet, tending to his wounds. Fortunately, the arrows had not punctured any fatal areas of his body, but waterfalls of blood gushed from his ribs and shoulder. The torn flesh was ghastly looking. This was exactly why I wasn't a healer. I had become proficiently skilled in the art of herbs and medicines at the age of twelve and could have taken up an apprenticeship at that point, but sick people were simply too disgusting to look at day after day.

I was presently feeding a thread through the laceration on Dagonet's shoulder while he watched my work intently in the meantime. "Watch the angle there," he instructed, "Make sure the stitches run diagonal…"

"Will you let me alone?" I replied, the tenor in my voice rising. He'd been criticizing my work since the moment I brought over his healing bag. "I know what I'm doing," I assured him.

"Well, the last thing I want is to bust open the stitches," he said, "I'd like to avoid an infection if at all possible." Didn't he know it was rude to disparage another's healing skills?

"I've sewn stitches before, you know," I replied, trying to remain calm, "If you don't like the way I do it, you can sew them up yourself."

"Is that a promise?" he asked.

"Insufferable man," I muttered through gritted teeth as I finished feeding the stitch through the open cut.

"Now, pull the thread so that it's nice and tight…" he carried on, clearly not having listened to a word I had said.

Oh, yes. You can be sure I pulled that thread _nice _and tight.

"Oww! Shit!" he cried out in pain after I had given the thread a sharp little tug, "Are you trying to kill me, woman?"

I couldn't bear it any longer. I shot to my feet, hurling his healing bag to the floor with a thud. "No!" I reviled, "You seem perfectly capable doing that yourself!"

My sudden outburst caught him off guard. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"What you did out on that ice was suicide!" I cried, "What in God's name were you thinking?"

"I was thinking we were all going to die if someone didn't do something!"

"You had no right to do that," I raved, "No right to think you could leave us, to leave me—to go before I had the chance to tell you…"

My voice trailed off.

"To tell me what?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said, sitting back down beside him, "It's not important."

I sighed, releasing the anger from my chest and pacifying my temper. A moment later, Dagonet took my hand in his. "Minnie…" he began.

"What?"

"I love you."

"You what?"

"You heard me."

"I did," I replied, "but say it once more so I can believe you."

"I love you, damnit."

I was blubbering now despite myself. "Then why—why was it easy for you to leave me?" I asked through my tears.

Dagonet stroked my cheek, brushing away a teardrop with his calloused fingertips that were rough on my skin, but with a caress that was soft and gentle. "To know that I could never let any harm come to you?" he said, "Yes, it was an easy decision."

"You fool," I laughed, shaking my head.

"What?" he asked, completely oblivious as to what was so funny.

"You really do love me," I replied with great amusement.

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"But you really meant it…"

"Of course I did," he replied, "Now who's the fool?"

I lay my head on his lap, wrapping my arms about his knees as he stroked my hair. I belonged to him then in a way I had never belonged to anyone before. And, strangely, I liked the way that felt. Damn these girlish emotions. I was a prepubescent virgin with her first crush all over again.

"Dagonet…" I whispered, turning to look up at him.

"Hmmm?"

"I love you too."

---------------

Arthur had pools of sadness in his eyes. His head drooped and his shoulders sagged as though the weight of his thoughts would topple him over. He had news, terrible news, to share and he had been putting it off all day.

"Jade…" he called over to his childhood friend. His voice cracked at the expression of her name. She could tell that something was not right.

"Yes?" she replied.

He looked as if he were about to say something, but then changed his mind. "How is Dagonet?" he asked.

Jade smiled reassuringly. "He's fine," she said, "Minnie is taking good care of him."

"I bet she is!" Bors called over as he passed by, chuckling in amusement. "I'm damn proud of him too," he added, "Finally found himself a woman."

Jade laughed. She too was happy for Dagonet and me. Arthur did not join in the joviality, but instead stared off with a conflicted expression carved into his face.

"Arthur," Jade said, her voice growing very serious, "What is it?"

The solemn commander hesitated, drawing in a deep breath. "It's about your father…"

Arthur then related to her everything that the young Alecto had told him. Pelagius' teachings had been condemned in Rome. Bishop Germanius, along with some other high-standing clergymen, had excommunicated and murdered her father. This, of course, also explained the assassination attempts that were made on Jade.

"I can only assume Germanius was behind those attacks as well," Arthur said, "I'm just grateful that you are here with us and not alone back at the fort."

Jade nodded, her eyes fixed at her feet. "Thank you for telling me," she said meekly.

Arthur took her hand and squeezed it consolingly. "I am sorry for your loss," he said, "Pelagius was like a father to me. If there's ever anything I can do—if you ever want to talk…"

"I know," Jade replied.

Arthur gave her hand one final squeeze and then moved away to allow her some privacy. He knew that she needed time to grieve and, at the same time, he felt completely useless to her. He had nothing to offer her but his own despair over the great man who had been her father, over the great city he had thought was Rome, and over everything he had held as true which was now being crushed beneath the weight of all the realities crashing down around him.

"Arthur…"

"Yes?" he replied, turning back to her.

"How can you still serve Rome?" she asked, "After all this?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head, "I don't know."

Jade stalked off quietly, wanting neither company nor consolation. She only wanted to disappear, to slip away into the night and become one with its darkness because she felt so very dark inside. There was no shining moon or sparkling stars in her soul tonight, only a black void that swelled inside her chest until the beat of her heart was only a whispered reminder that she was still alive.

Lancelot's footsteps crunched on the ground beside her. "Come," he offered, "Warm yourself by our fire."

The knights, including Tristan, were gathered around the campfire with the Honorus family guards. Now that Marius was dead, there was a truce between them. "No," Jade replied, "Not now." Lancelot shrugged his shoulders and continued on his way while Jade quickly veered off in another direction.

She had almost made it to the edge of the forest when someone caught ahold of her arm. "Hey," Tristan said.

"What?" Jade asked, annoyed that she couldn't just be left alone. There was mistrust in her eyes now as she looked upon him. He represented Rome regardless of whether he was Roman. And, at that moment, she could not reconcile the difference.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Nowhere," she muttered, jerking her arm out of his grasp.

"There may still be Saxons nearby," he warned, "Or Woads."

Jade laughed dryly. "Is that supposed to frighten me?"

"Yes."

"Well it doesn't," she said with sharp indignation, "The Saxons want nothing of me and the Woads are my mother's people. They would not harm me."

"Nevertheless," he said, "It's not safe."

"Or maybe," she replied pointedly, "You think I'm off to another secret, late night meeting with Merlin."

"Are you?"

Jade scoffed and rolled her eyes. "No," she answered, "But you know what? Maybe I _am_ the traitor you accused me of being because, truth be told, I see things more clearly now than I ever have. I hate Rome and everything it stands for. Perhaps the one I should be afraid of is you."

"I'm no Roman."

"Why are you here, Tristan? Why did you come on this mission?" she asked, "Because Germanius ordered it. Germanius. I wonder what other orders you might take from him."

She darted into the forest before he could respond, leaving him with a puzzled look on his face. Like a wild animal that can think of nothing but escape, she ran and kept running, the trees blurring around her as she flew through the forest. Finally she stopped at an old oak tree, leaning her back against its trunk.

Jade covered her face with her hands, her breathing ragged and erratic. There was rage and it rumbled through her body, causing her entire frame to shake and tremble. She turned and struck the tree with her fist. The impact of her knuckles against the bark sent tremors through her arm, but the tree trunk stood motionless, unaffected by her assault. It angered her.

She struck the tree again, harder this time. It mocked her with its stillness. Provoked by its ambivalence towards her, she threw herself on the oak, beating, thrashing, clawing at its trunk. At last, the tree retaliated, stealing the skin from her knuckles, but even that was meaningless. She and her foe were equal in that neither of them was physically conscious of the affects of their battle Throwing all her weight behind her punches now, she willed the oak to bend to her force, determined to strike a dent in its resilient trunk. But, more importantly, she wanted to feel the impact for herself, to break through the deep pool of numbness in which she was sinking.

Two arms wrapped around her from behind and started to drag her away from her despondent adversary. She struggled to break free from their grasp, but they held her steadfast until she was stilled into submission. When they released her, she collapsed to the ground, embracing the forest floor as she would a spar adrift in the water.

Tristan knelt down beside her, pulling her up into a sitting position. He lifted her chin with two of his fingers, commanding her to look at him. She did and was met by a face that was not angry or bitter at her earlier outburst, but only looked upon her with an objective desire to understand.

"I take orders from Arthur," he said, "Not from Rome. Not from Germanius."

The truth was so very simple sometimes. Jade fell forward, burying her head at his feet in penitence.

"Arthur told us what they did to your father," Tristan continued, "You're right to hate Rome."

Jade lifted her head to meet his gaze, holding up her bleeding knuckles in front of his face. "I can't feel it," she said, her eyes wide with horror, "Why can't I feel it?"

The blood trickled down to her wrists. Without pausing for needless questions or words, Tristan quickly took her hands, tearing strips of cloth from his tunic and wrapping them tightly around the wounds. Jade, now docile and limp, allowed him to bandage her hands, but her body trembled as tears fell freely down her cheeks. It was the first time in a long time that she could remember being able to cry.

"Why can't I feel it?" she murmured.

"Shhh," he said, as he tied the final knot.

"Thank you," she whispered, "You can go now."

"I'm not leaving," he replied.

"Fine," she said, struggling to her feet, "I will."

She started to stumble away from him then, but he caught her and would not let her go. At first she fought him, writhing in his grasp, but he held her arms firmly to her sides until her every muscle relaxed back into submission. Then she crumpled into him, burying her face in his chest, her body heaving in and out with uncontrollable sobs. She clutched at the links of his armor with her slender fingers.

"Shhh," he said, running his hands along the curve of her back.

She looked up at him, sinewy trails of tears streaking down her face. "It hurts so bad," she whispered, touching her hand to her chest, "Inside. I can't bear it. It's a lie—that I can't feel pain. I feel it—inside."

"It's alright," he said and pulled her into his embrace.

Her body was cold and shivering, so he wrapped his cloak around the both of them as they sat beneath the tree, him cradling her in his arms. Resting her head on his chest, she closed her eyes and her breathing soon slowed into the easiness of slumber. Tristan kept his arms securely around her frame as if he were hoarding some kind of treasure beneath his cloak. In the sky, the clouds parted and the silver moonlight poured down into the darkness that had so long enveloped them.


	11. Chapter 11

Okay, I might need to change this fic's rating to Mature, but just be warned that some of the content in this chapter might be a little sexually explicit.

And, also, thanks again for everyone's comments!

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The moon was quickly fading into the pale dawn sky when Jade's eyelids fluttered open. She rubbed away the footprints of the tears that had run down her cheeks the night before. Her body ached and felt weighted down by an invisible force that inhibited even her slightest movement. Her grief had exhausted her and drained her of all her energy.

As her eyes finally came to focus, they locked on Tristan's. The scout had been peering down at her, mesmerized and confounded by how easily she slept in his arms. The circumstances of the assassination attempts having been revealed, Arthur was taking a great risk in granting her sanctuary. There would be severe consequences if it were discovered he was harboring the fugitive child of an executed blasphemer. Jade had finally realized what real danger she was in. Only hours ago she had, in her grief over her father, shouted her mistrust of everything Roman, of everything associated with Rome, of anyone who claimed allegiance to Rome, regardless of their volition in making such a pledge. The knights were under Germanius' authority, were required to follow his orders, the orders of Rome—that same Germanius who had ordered the assassination of her father and of herself.

Yet, there she lay, entrusting herself to the scout even in her most vulnerable state. She had trusted him, believed him when he said Germanius held no dominion despite all the evidence to the contrary, despite the fact that he and the knights had risked their lives on a mission of Germanius' bidding. And why should she have trusted him? He had presented himself to her as nothing more than a killer, had accused her of conspiring with Merlin, had doubted her intentions at the estate where they had found the imprisoned Guinevere. Tristan had revealed nothing of himself to her, but still, somehow, last night she had seen through the mask he had before thought impenetrable. When she looked at him, she could discern as no one ever had what was honest, what was true, and she believed that she was safe with him.

"It's morning?" Her words levitated in the air as she yawned.

Tristan nodded, helping her to her feet. He observed her trembling frame as she was no longer wrapped in the warmth of his cloak. For Jade, there was no escaping his stare. It penetrated her to her very core, ruthless in its grip, relentless in its intensity.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you always so unnerving?" Jade asked.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

"You make me feel very…exposed," she replied.

"Oh?"

"Yes," she said, "I don't suppose you've ever felt that way?"

There was laughter in his eyes as he leaned back lazily against the tree. "I don't give people any power over me," he replied, "that I don't want them to have."

Jade smiled ruefully. "I believe you do have some kind of power over me," she confessed, "If only in that you have seen me at my very worst, my very weakest." She paused a moment. "Why did you come after me last night? Why did you stay?"

"Who else would have?" he asked, "If I had not?"

Jade averted her eyes to the ground. "I would have been fine."

"Yes," he agreed, "You would have only broken all the bones in your hands, but you would have been fine."

Looking down now at her bandaged hands, she groaned inwardly at her carelessness. "Thank you," she said softly, "You should not have been so kind to me—not after how I treated you. I'm sorry."

"You'd just learned of your father's death," he said, excusing her with a shrug.

"Yes," she replied. "But I shouldn't have taken it out on you—or the tree," she laughed, "It's just that…that…Tristan, I was afraid—and I still am. Germanius is here and he could cause so much trouble for Arthur and the rest of you. Maybe I should go…not return to the fort…Maybe Merlin could help…Maybe…"

Tristan advanced toward her and gripped by the shoulders. "Stop," he said firmly, "Don't give Germanius that power. Don't let your fear control you. This is the last lesson in fighting I will give you."

Jade nodded. "You're right," she said, exhaling, "I won't be afraid."

Tristan, not removing his hands from her shoulders, looked down into her eyes, searching inside them for her thoughts, for any betrayal of her feelings, for any confession of her desire. "Tristan…" she said quietly, "Why did you really follow me here?"

Tristan never did anything without intention or purpose. Tristan never gave anyone a power over him that he did not want them to have. Cradling the back of her neck with one hand and resting the other on the small of her back, Tristan pressed his mouth to hers, gently at first, and then deeper, invading her mouth with his tongue. His whiskers tickled her face, while his lips were soft and supple, but explosive at the same time, igniting sparks with their first contact. The kiss was the peak of a rapidly ascending crescendo. The birds sang louder; the sun shone brighter; and the smell of frosted pine inundated the air with the potency of its perfumes.

They parted, breathless, blood surging, hair standing up on end, electrified. "I have watched you everyday since the day you arrived," he confided, "And I have only wondered one thing."

"What was that?" she asked, still flustered from the kiss.

"Why you are alone."

"Alone?" she asked, "What do you mean?"

"On the parapet, in the forest," he explained, "You always seek solitude."

Jade could not help but laugh. "Of all people to ask me such a question," she remarked.

Tristan allowed himself a small smile at the irony of his words. "That's true," he said, "Or at least it used to be. Now I seek you, follow you—that is the power you have over me."

Jade's eyebrows arched up in surprise at the confession. "The power you let me have, you mean," she said.

"I'm no longer certain," he admitted.

Jade guided his hands to the edge of her tunic, removing it in one fluid motion and discarding it on the forest floor. She stood bare before him, vulnerable, and shivering in the cold, the morning sun glistening on her naked skin. "I'm yours," she said.

The words had barely escaped her lips before he had her prone on the ground, throwing off his tunic. He explored her body, pressing his hands to where her stomach sank beneath her ribs and sliding them down to the protrusion of her hips. When he was about to enter her, she wrapped her arms firmly around his neck and shut her eyes tightly.

"No," he said, stroking her cheek, "Look at me."

Her eyelids parted and she peered directly into his eyes. "I want to see you feel it," he said.

She nodded and then he was inside her. Her eyes flashed and then rolled back as she moaned in pleasure.

"Look at me."

She focused again on him, her pupils dancing wildly, tears filling the corners of her eyes. "I feel it," she whispered, "I feel it."

---------------------------

When we returned to the fort, Jade had a strange glow about her. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with her. She would daze off at nothing in particular and kept smiling without any reason. It wasn't natural. If I didn't know any better I would say she had…but that was a ridiculous notion.

I, of course, had my skepticisms about returning to the fort with Germanius still there, but Arthur assured me that now that we knew who exactly the enemy was, it would be easier to keep Jade safe. Germanius and the rest of the Romans were leaving at first light, so as long as Jade was not discovered before then, the danger would pass quickly enough.

Once Jade was safely secured in our quarters, I escorted Dagonet to the healing rooms while the rest of the knights received their discharge papers from that scum Germanius. "Let me borrow your axe," I ranted as Dagonet rested in bed, "I'll hack that haughty head of his right off his shoulders."

"Don't give the Romans reason to stay longer than they have to," Dagonet warned, "They'll be gone in the morning."

"What about you?" I asked. It was time to bring up the subject we'd both been avoiding for some time now. "I've heard the other knights speak of going home to Sarmatia…"

Dagonet nodded. "And I will go with them," he said, "If you will come with me."

I bit my lip in hesitation. "My mistress…" I replied, "I could never leave her…"

"She can come with us," he said, "She will be safe under our protection."

"I'm sure," I replied, "But she must stay with Arthur, of course. After all, they—"

"Minnie," Dagonet interrupted, his tone very serious, "You need to open your eyes. Arthur and Guinevere have grown very close…"

"You're wrong," I said, shaking my head in denial, "You'll see. You're wrong."

And, of course, that's what I truly believed, which is why I decided to go to Arthur that night to discuss his and Jade's fate once and for all. With the Saxon invasion so close at hand and her father dead, I had to see to it that Jade would be properly cared for. Arthur's previous intention to journey to Rome, however, might have posed a problem since Jade was wanted dead there. A minor complication. But Arthur had to have some sort of solution. He would attend to her safety first and then worry about marriage later.

I had almost reached Arthur's chambers when his squire Jols pushed past me and pounded his fist urgently on the door. "Arthur!" he called, "Come to the wall now."

Well, I couldn't believe my eyes. A disheveled Arthur and Guinevere stumbled out of the quarters and hurried down the corridor. It was clear what they had been up to. The horror! The scandal! All of my plans ruined! Guinevere didn't even have the decency to fix her dress. The hussy just let her sleeve dangle down her arm, exposing her bare shoulder in a vile display of impropriety. I picked my jaw up off the floor and scrambled after them to the top of the parapet.

Everyone was there—Arthur, the knights, and even Jade who had, against my better judgment, changed out of her boyish clothes. She had dressed herself in a flowing emerald dress that matched her eyes and was fitted around the waist, showing off her feminine figure for the first time since arriving in Britain. She was breathtaking and it broke my heart that Arthur had chosen another over her. How could I bare to tell her what I had just witnessed not moments before?

None of it mattered at this moment in time, however, because, as we soon discovered, the entire Saxon army was camped right outside the wall. "Knights," Arthur said solemnly, "My journey with you must end here."

So Guinevere had persuaded him to stay and fight the Saxons. I had to admit that I admired her practical use of her womanly assets to beguile the commander, but if only it hadn't ruined my plans for Arthur and Jade! This was the worst of calamaties. What would we do now?

Lancelot presently ran after Arthur to try to convince him to change his mind. I had little faith in him, though. Some help he had been in diverting Guinevere's attention, after all. Dagonet had been right. Lancelot held little preference to the object of his chase as long as it was wearing a skirt.

Guinevere and Jade followed shortly behind them down the stairs and waited as the two friends continued their argument. "I will stay and fight as well," she confided to Guinevere.

Guinevere's eyes held a profound respect and reverence. "Your mother would be very proud," she said with a smile.

Jade perked up with curiosity. For the first time in her life, she had a chance to learn about the mysterious woman who had given birth to her. "You knew my mother?" she asked.

"Of course," Guinevere replied, "She was a legendary warrior in our tribe. We felt her loss greatly when she fell in battle three years ago."

"You saw her die?" Jade asked meekly.

"Yes," Guinevere said, "I remember it as if it were yesterday. The knights were…" Guinevere's voice trailed off suddenly as if she had suddenly remembered something. "But more importantly," Guinevere continued quickly, "I remember how she lived, always making sacrifices for the freedom of our country. I held so much admiration for her…"

Jade could sense that she was holding something back. "But how did she die?" Jade asked, "What happened?"

"She died in battle," Guinevere replied sharply, "That's all."

A chill ran up Jade's spine. "What were you about to say?" she asked, "About the knights?"

"Listen," Guinevere replied, "It's better to leave well enough alone. No good will come out of drudging up the past."

"She wasn't fighting one of the knights..." Jade said, a rock of anxiety sinking deep into her stomach, "That's not how it happened...It couldn't have been...Tell me that's not how it happened..."

Guinevere was no longer able to look Jade in the eyes. "They were only doing what Rome had enslaved them to do…" she stammered, "We have always blamed Rome, never Arthur or his knights…"

"Guinevere," Jade whispered, her voice hoarse and shaking, "Who was it?"

Guinevere looked at Jade apologetically, knowing that any further stalling would be pointless. Jade could not live the rest of her life carrying around suspicions, always left to wonder about her mother's fate. Guinevere drew in a deep breath.

"Arthur's scout. Tristan," she answered, "I'm sorry."


	12. Chapter 12

Hey guys, sorry I left you on the cliffhanger for so long. I had fully intended on updating by Wednesday, but this week literally swallowed me whole. So anyways, here you are (finally):

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Another note- I reworked the Jade/Tristan conversation a little bit and reuploaded it because I realized she was coming on a little strong. Sorry for the confusion!

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"I'm sorry?" Jade asked, certain she had not heard her correctly, "What did you say?"

"Tristan," Guinevere repeated, "The one with the hawk, the scout."

"No," said Jade, "No, you're wrong. That can't be true."

Guinevere's brow was knitted in puzzlement. She had not been aware of how close Jade and Tristan had become. "I'm sorry," she said, touching her hand to Jade's arm, "I wish it weren't."

Jade glanced up at Tristan who was standing on the parapet, his gaze directed toward her with its usual subtle hint of interest. His eyes held no notion of the accusations that had just been brought against him, no recognition of how her soul was being suffocated of everything she had once hoped and dreamed, no conception of all that was slipping away in that moment.

"Thank you for telling me," she said softly to Guinevere and walked slowly away.

Desperately she hoped that Tristan would not follow her because she could not even begin to know what she would say to him, how she could describe what she was feeling, what she was thinking. If only she hadn't been so adamant that Guinevere be forthright with her. If only she hadn't coaxed the truth out, she could have remained happy in her ignorance. Perhaps she never would have even known.

And yet, what good had such denial ever done her before? For a year now she had pretended that the Roman assassins presented no real threat against her, but in the end that had not stopped them from killing her father. Her obliviousness to what Tristan had done would not make his actions less real. But how could such a thing be true? Could fate really be so very cruel? How could possibility of her and Tristan be anything but lost when such a terrible revelation was tearing them apart? There was a rift between them now that seemed impossible to overcome. Tristan had killed Jade's mother. Everything had changed.

"Pssst," came a raspy voice, "Are they here yet?"

Jade spun around to find an old man sitting drunk on the ground, his recently neglected bottle rolling to and fro on the cobbled sidewalk. His dejection entranced her. The grey pallor of his skin; the white hair that rose from his head like smoke; his bony, disjointed limbs that poked out at every angle; the crevices, cracks, and craters, the early decay of his body; he was grotesque and cadaverous and she felt the sudden desire to run her finger along his gaunt, sunken in cheek. He was the physical manifestation of her heart.

"Is who here yet?" she inquired at last.

His yellow eyes grew very wide. "The Saxons," he croaked.

"No," she answered, continuing on her way, "Not yet."

The old man nodded warily. "Miss…" he called after her.

Jade turned once again to face him. He curled his withered finger at her, urging her to draw closer. "There's someone following you," he whispered.

"Thank you," she said.

Around the corner, she stood, her dress flowing in the breeze like an emerald cloud around her, and waited for him, the one she had worn it for. The moonlight passed over Tristan like an eclipse, half of his face hidden in the shadows. Jade had no perception of his approach except that his body seemed to expand and grow larger and finally loom over her. When he leaned down to kiss her, Jade did not recoil, but rather remained chillingly still. Her lips were slack, unresponsive to his touch, and her arms hung loosely at her sides, though her hands were balled into fists.

He stepped back, searching her motionless face that for once was as unreadable as his own. He could tell that something was different about her, though, that something was wrong. There was an eerie coldness in her eyes.

"You're leaving tomorrow?" she asked flatly.

Tristan nodded.

"I'm sure you are eager to return home," she said.

He shrugged. "That was all a long time ago."

"Then what will you do?" she asked, "Surely, you must have some sort of plans."

He grasped her hand. "Don't talk like this," he said, "You know I'm taking you with me."

"No," her voice rang in the low tone of a heavy bell, "I wish nothing but happiness for you, Tristan—but this is goodbye. I'm staying."

An unbelieving smile broke across his face.

"You think I am joking?" she asked, "I assure you I'm quite serious. I won't go with you tomorrow."

"There's nothing left for you here," he replied, "Only death."

"I know what I'm doing," she said.

"What did she say to you? The woad?" he asked sharply, "You owe them nothing, you know. Just because your m—"

"Don't," Jade whispered, "Please don't talk about my mother."

The scout knitted his brow in consternation.

"And yes," Jade added, her voice rising, "Maybe I am doing this for her, for her people, but it is _my _decision."

Tristan ground his teeth with obvious agitation. "You're willing to die for this?"

"I am."

"And last night?"

"Let's not talk about that," she said, averting her eyes to the ground.

"I see," he replied.

"It's better that way," she added in a hopeless attempt of explanation.

"If you say so," he muttered, "Tell me one thing first."

"What's that?"

"What happened?" he asked, "In your dream about the hawk?"

"It flew away," she answered plainly.

Tristan nodded solemnly. "Goodbye then."

"Goodbye," she whispered.

Tristan had almost disappeared around the corner when he slapped his hand to the wall, halting in his tracks and gripping tightly to one of its stones. It was the whiteness of his knuckles that she noticed. "No," he growled defiantly and charged back upon her.

"There's more to this," he said, "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," she replied defensively, "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I want to stay and fight?"

"Because I've seen you fight," he said, "And it's not what you want. You don't lust after it like I do."

"Yes," she agreed quietly, "And that's why this is goodbye."

"I don't understand."

Jade let out a sigh of resignation. It was time for the truth. "Tell me," she said, "How many Woads have you killed?"

"Many," he replied, "You know this. And you know Rome forced me to do it."

"I know," she said, biting her lower lip, "I understand, but..."

"But what?"

"But you lusted after it..."

Tristan paused momentarily. "I did."

"Man or woman," she continued, "It didn't matter, did it?"

"No," he replied, "Where are you going with this?"

"My mother," Jade said hesitantly, "Guinevere watched her die—watched you kill her."

The scales fell from Tristan's eyes as the meaning of these words sunk in. There comes a moment in every fight when one warrior knows with perfect certainty that he will lose and there is nothing left to do but wait for it. Tristan said nothing.

"You don't deny it?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't pretend to know," he replied, "It's possible."

Jade watched his face, waited for some change in his expression. There was nothing. "But you don't regret it?" she asked, her voice growing obviously frustrated, "You feel no remorse?"

"Do you want me to lie to you?"

She looked at him in disbelief. "You're a heartless bastard."

"I never pretended to be otherwise," he said with harrowing calm.

"You pretended you cared about me."

"I do care about you," he said.

Jade scoffed.

"I regret it was your mother," he offered.

"But not that you killed her?"

Tristan said nothing.

"I see."

"Jade…"

"Please," she said, "Just leave me alone."

Tristan reached out to touch her, but this time she recoiled, spitting fire at him with her eyes. It was no use. He left her and this time did not return.

----------------------

When I found Jade, she was crumpled on the ground, weeping, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked like a ball of string, wound tightly to be made as compact as possible. And she appeared to be growing smaller as her frame kept trembling and contracting. I worried she might shrink into nothingness.

"What is it, child?" I gasped as I rushed over to her side, stroking her head, "What happened?"

"Everything's falling apart," came her muffled answer, the words drowning in her tears.

"What do you mean?" I asked, "Talk to me."

"Nothing's as I thought it was," she murmured, "Everything I believed in—it was all a lie."

"It'll be all right," I assured her, "Everything will be fine."

"I was so wrong," she said, "How could I have been so wrong?"

"Wrong about what, dear?" I asked gently.

"I thought he was the one," she whispered.

"Ohhh…" I replied as everything started to become clear.

"I was such a fool."

"Listen to me," I said firmly, "Forget him. There will be other men who will be able to see you for the beautiful, kind, intelligent person you are. If Arthur wants to waste his life with that Guinevere woman, then so be it. It's his loss."

"Arthur?" she asked, wiping a tear from her perplexed face, "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Isn't that…" I replied, "…who you were talking about?"

Well, apparently there had been a little bit of confusion. Dagonet had been right after all. Damn that man. As Jade and I sat together on the cobblestone ground, she confided in me everything that had passed between her and Tristan, which I have subsequently recounted to you in this tale. At first, I was resistant to what I was hearing, but by the end of her sorrowful story, I could not help but be convinced that she and Tristan were fated to be together no matter what had happened with her mother. This wasn't necessarily because I suddenly held the scout in higher esteem, but because the spark of light in Jade's eyes when she spoke of him was undeniable. I had never seen her so passionately happy–nor so dreadfully bereaved.

"And now I don't—I can't believe in any of it anymore," she concluded with a heavy sigh, "Not in Seraphine or Baldric. Not in Dido or any of those stupid stories I used to tell. They were just stories. I was wrong, Minnie, so wrong."

"No, I was wrong," I said, bracing her shoulders, "And you know how seldom I admit that. You have to keep believing in those stories because it's all true—everything they stand for." I paused briefly, a gentle smile spreading over my face. "Dagonet and I are in love," I confided, "We will leave together tomorrow, if you will come with us. I know there is love out there for you, Jade. If I can find it, then so can you."

"I'm happy for you, Minnie," she replied, "Honestly, I am. But you know my answer already. I want you to go, though. You and Dagonet deserve this chance more than anything."

"I won't leave you," I said.

"I'm not a child anymore," she said, "I'll be all right."

"You'll always be a child to me," I replied, "You're like my own daughter."

"I love you," she said, "And that's why I won't let you sacrifice your life for me."

We embraced, and I knew it was goodbye. Jade had to find her own path and I, mine. We would meet again someday, perhaps, if fate would have it so.

--------------------

"Pack quickly and wait for me tomorrow at the edge of the forest."

"Lancelot, I'm scared."

Arthur's first knight stood at the doorstep of a raven haired woman in a white dressing gown. Lancelot tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek.

"Shhh," he said, "Everything will be alright, my love. No harm will come to you, I swear it. Do you believe me?"

She nodded, clearly trying to force back her tears. "I believe you," she answered.

"Good," he said and kissed her lips.

As they parted, Lancelot caught sight of Jade in the street. He smiled ruefully, acutely aware of the fact that she had just witnessed a side of him that not even his brother knights knew existed. Jade returned a small smile and bowed her head as she passed him.

"Even you, Lancelot," she wanted to say, "Even you."

------------------

A single candle was all that lit Jade's room. It was very still and very quiet, but the roaring of her thoughts quickly filled its emptiness. _Baldric saves Seraphine and marries her._ "Sentimental nonsense." _What of Dido of Sicily? _"I regret it was your mother." _When the evil King tried to take her virginity, she plunged a knife through her heart. _"The heart is on the left side of the chest."

Jade knelt down on the floor.

The wooden planks were hard under her knees.

She removed the dagger from her boot.

It would all be over in an instant. There would be no pain.

The tip of the knife felt cold on her breast.

_It flew away._

Wrapping her fingers tightly around the hilt, she drew in a deep breath.

_Goodbye, then._

Something creaked. The door swung open.

"And so," boomed a malicious voice, "the daughter of Pelagius has been right under our noses this entire time!"

Bishop Germanius smiled. Horton stood at his right side, the traitor.


	13. Chapter 13

Hey everyone, sorry it's taken me forever to update. School's been ridiculously hectic lately. Thanks so much to everyone for reading and for your comments!

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I went to Jade's room early that morning to say one final goodbye before I left with the knights for Sarmatia. When I found her quarters empty, however, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. I searched throughout the entire fort for her: the tavern, the armory, the stables—everywhere I could think of. But she had vanished and I couldn't expel the thought out of my head that something horrible had happened.

"My ears are twitching," I announced frantically as I barged through the doors of the healing rooms where Dagonet was waiting. Fortunately, he was well enough now to be able to mount a horse for the long journey to Sarmatia. We would meet the other knights shortly to start gathering supplies for the convoy.

"Excuse me?" he said. His face held obvious perplexity.

"Something is wrong," I said.

"And you know this because…?"

"My ears are twitching."

"You've lost me completely," he said.

"My ears twitch," I explained. "When something is terribly wrong (and I know that something _is _terribly wrong), my ears start twitching, which is why when I found Jade's room empty just a minute ago…"

"Wait a minute," Dagonet said. "Slow down. What happened?"

"She's missing!" I cried.

"I thought you said Jade wasn't coming with us?" he asked, forever lagging two steps behind me in conversation.

"That's not the point," I replied. "No, she's not coming with us, but—"

"But what?" he asked. "She wasn't expecting you, was she?"

"Well," I said, "No..."

"Perhaps she's off preparing for the battle," he said. "The Saxons are invading, you know."

"Now, don't take that tone with me!" I snapped. "I checked the armory and the stables. She's nowhere to be found."

"Maybe she went with Guinevere and the other Woads," he suggested.

I shook my head. "You don't understand," I said. "My ears are twitching."

Well, Dagonet simply refused to be convinced that anything irregular was going on. He told me that really I was just letting my inherent tendency to overreact and worry overwhelm my reason and that, of course, Jade was just fine. I threw a cup against the wall and shouted at him that I certainly did _not _have an inherent tendency to overreact. Eventually, however, he persuaded me that, if only for my own sanity, I needed to believe that she was alright.

I suppose my worry was stemming from the fact that she had chosen to stay and face the Saxons with Arthur and the other Britons. A perilous fate, to be sure. But it was her life now, her decision. And, if she ever needed help, she knew where to find us.

Along with the Germanius and the other Romans who were also evacuating the fort, we formed a caravan and set off on the trail to leave Britain as quickly as possible. This should have been a joyous affair for the knights who had finally secured their freedom, but instead of happiness their faces held somberness and solemnity for the commander they were leaving behind.

--------------

Of course, I was right. Something was terribly wrong. Hidden in Germanius' carriage, Jade was bound at the wrists and the ankles. She tested the ropes, hoping they would loosen, but instead they only dug further into her skin, leaving it red and blistered. The gag that had been stuffed into her mouth tasted of dirt and filth, causing her stomach to lurch. Germanius only laughed.

"Throughout my life, I have often times questioned my faith," he confessed. "But to stumble across the daughter of Pelagius on the outskirts of the Roman Empire—well! That is far too auspicious to be mere happenstance. There must be a God!"

Jade glared at her captor and made muffled sounds through her gag.

He looked down at her in amusement. "I'm sorry," he mocked. "What was that? I can't understand a word you're saying." He leaned over and pretended to listen more carefully. "Oh, don't worry," he said. "We're not going to kill you—yet."

Jade's eyes flitted helplessly around the interior of the carriage. Through a crack in the side, she could see horse's hooves trailing not too far behind. And voices! She could hear voices—and recognized them.

"Artorius!" Bors called out to his commander on the hill. "RUUUUUSSSS!"

"Ah, yes. The Sarmatian knights," Germanius laughed. "I wouldn't concern myself with them, if I were you. They don't know you're here."

Jade screamed as loud as she could through the gag and struggled against her binds, writhing about and kicking at the carriage walls with her feet—hoping to make any kind of sound that might attract someone's attention. Germanius gave her a swift kick to the stomach and motioned for his personal guard to hold her still. It was hopeless. No one had heard her.

Jade peered through the crack in the side of the carriage once more. This time she saw Tristan. He retrieved his bow from one of the wagons and tested its string. With tears welling in her eyes, Jade willed him to see her, to somehow feel her presence and to be drawn to it.

But he wasn't. The galloping of horse's hooves faded into the distance.

Germanius poked his head out of the window. "Where are they going?" he demanded.

"To join Arthur and fight the Saxons," replied one of the soldiers riding alongside the convoy.

"Bah!" Germanius spat. "So be it. Tell the driver to make a detour into the woods up ahead."

"Yes sir," said the soldier.

Germanius turned away from the window and grinned devilishly at Jade. "It's time to conduct a little business," he said.

-------------------

"Dagonet, no!" I cried, tugging on his arm. "You can barely even ride. How will you fight?"

Ignoring my protests, Dagonet strode towards his horse with battleaxe in tow. "Wait here with Vanora," he ordered, nodding towards Bors' scarlet haired wife.

"Come on, love," Vanora said and took my hand.

"Dagonet!" I screamed after him.

He turned and looked at me with sad, but determined eyes. I wanted to tell him that he was a fool, that he was in no condition to ride off into battle, that I forbid him to do so. Instead, I said only this: "Don't take too long."

Don't take too long? _Don't take too long? _The love of my life was running off to get himself killed—again—and all I could say was "Don't take too long." What was wrong with me?

For some reason, though, it seemed for once that I said the right thing because, the second the words left my lips, Dagonet charged back toward me and, taking me in his arms, kissed me passionately. We stayed as such for what seemed both an eternity and a fleeting second. When we parted, I knew he was doing the right thing and I let him go.

Tristan turned to his hawk. "You're free," he said and released the bird into the sky.

I watched sadly as the knights rode away. It was a bittersweet moment. To see them rally behind their commander inspired the deepest feelings of warmth, but there was also a cold breath of death in the air. Many lives would be lost that day.

"How do you stand it?" I asked Vanora. "How can you bear letting them go?"

"With courage," she answered. "We have to be as brave as they are."

I nodded. This woman had a lot of sense in her.

"What's going on there?" she asked, pointing towards the Roman caravan ahead of us. They were deviating from the path and heading off into the woods. Tristan's hawk followed, its cry echoing across the sky. My ears twitched and suddenly everything became clear.

"They have Jade!" I shouted.

--------------

At first, I had intended to chase after the bloody Romans myself, but on second thought I concluded that such an effort, no matter how enraged I was, would ultimately prove fruitless. They had swords and bows and arrows and I had only my bare hands and a very stern look. No, the only thing to do was to go find the knights and hope they could hasten back fast enough to return in time to save her. I mounted one of the spare horses and rode off towards Badon Hill.

Everything was in chaos. Saxons and Woads ran about in every direction, interspersing into a hodgepodge of dark furs, blue skin, and splashes of red in between. Scanning the mob for any sign of the knights, I raced through the battle on horseback, the wind coursing through my hair. An arrow zipped past me through the air, causing my heart to stop beating for an instant. I would have to be more careful.

I started to become frantic as the knights were still nowhere to be found. Every second wasted brought Jade closer to death—if she was even still alive. Looking back, I cannot be sure how I knew for certain that Germanius and the Romans had taken Jade. I just knew and, what's more, I knew that I had to get help.

I practically fell off my horse in relief when I finally came across Tristan. With his sword drawn and ready, he was making his way across the field towards a Saxon with long blond hair who was twice his size. That fool! I spurred my horse forward and raced over to the two warriors, interposing myself between them.

They both furrowed their brows at me as if I were some sort of lunatic. "Look for a fight elsewhere!" I yelled at the Saxon. "This one will have to wait."

"What are you doing?" Tristan asked sharply, narrowing his eyes and tightening his grip on his sword.

"Out of the way, woman!" the Saxon bellowed.

"No!" I shouted back and turned again to Tristan. "Jade's in trouble," I said quickly. "Germanius has taken her."

Tristan's face fell. "Where?" he demanded.

"Into the forest," I replied. "Just off the trail."

"I'm waiting…" the Saxon taunted. "Or would you rather the maiden fight for you?"

Tristan scowled. It was the last thing the Saxon ever saw. Reaching into his armor, Tristan pulled out his dagger and flung it through the air, watching with satisfaction as it embedded itself in the Saxon's heart.

"Let's go," he said and whistled for his horse.

----------------

Jade stood in the forest with her arms held above her head, bound to a tree branch. Germanius prowled around her like a predator circling its prey. He was heavily guarded and there were even more soldiers stationed at various posts in the forest. The bishop held a scourge, which he put on display by fondling it with his hands. He wanted to be sure Jade saw it.

"You know," Germanius said, removing the gag from her mouth, "Your father didn't have to die. In fact, it wasn't even for his teachings that we killed him. Words are meaningless unless those in power support them. No, your father was killed for the words he would not speak."

"What do you mean?" Jade asked.

"The scroll," Germanius said. "All we wanted was the scroll. He could have lived if he had only told us where it is."

Jade stared at him blankly.

"I will give you the same chance," he continued. "Tell me where the scroll is—and I will spare your life."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jade lied. "I don't know anything about any scroll."

Germanius wound back his arm and then threw it forward, sending the whip crashing against Jade's back. The sound of the crack against her skin ripped through the forest and reverberated against the trees. Jade stared directly forward, silent.

"I don't like it when people lie to me," Germanius hissed.

"I'm telling the truth!" Jade said.

Germanius released the whip once more, this time letting it tear through her flesh. Still Jade did not react.

"Tell me where the scroll is!" he shouted.

"I don't know!"

Again the crack of the whip echoed through the trees. Jade kept her eyes trained placidly ahead of her.

Jade sighed. "Don't you think I'd tell you if I knew?" she asked. "What's in it that's so important anyway?"

"I think you know exactly what's so important," he growled, "which is why you're playing these little games. But I warn you—I will kill you and anyone else who gets in my way of finding it. Now. Tell me where the scroll is."

"No."

Germanius roared as he threw all his weight behind the scourge. The impact of the blow against her body threw Jade forward against her binds, but again she displayed no reaction. As if suddenly coming to a realization, Germanius gazed in horror at the blood running down her spine.

"Dark magic!" he gasped. "Why do you not cry out?"

Jade laughed, a tittering giggle at first, but then broke out into uncontrollable hysterics. Germanius sent the whip flying time after time, but still she showed no sign of pain or even the slightest discomfort. It sent him into a blind rage. He began kicking and beating her, screaming at her to react. She didn't.

"Sir," interrupted one of the guards, tossing a curved sword at the bishop's feet. "We've caught a trespasser."


	14. Chapter 14

Hello everyone! I am soooo so sorry that it's taken me forever to update. The semester is coming to an end, though, and I'll have more writing time.

Again, I just wanted to thank everyone for reading and for your comments! I really appreciate the feedback. You guys are great! I'll try to keep the updates coming faster.

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Tristan had not had time to formulate any sort of plan or course of action, but knew only that he had to get to Jade as quickly as possible—before anything happened to her. So he did the only thing he could think of and picked a fight with a group of the bishop's guards, feigning inadequacy and purposely falling into the hands of the enemy. It would be the fastest and most direct route to Germanius.

His eagerness to rush to Jade's rescue perhaps came as a bit unexpected, even to himself, especially considering how they had left things the night before. None of it mattered now, though. She could hate him forever for all he cared, but let her live to hate him. At least let her live.

But didn't that count for anything? It was true that he was not sorry for killing her mother. In fact, even now, knowing all that he did, he probably still would have done it. He couldn't be made to feel remorse for killing his enemy no matter who they turned out to be. He couldn't be made to care. In fact, he'd gladly kill the woman again just for coming between him and Jade.

But he did care about Jade and wanted to save her. Yes, with all of his supposedly cold and unfeeling heart, he wanted to save her. He only hoped with the utmost desperation that he would be in time.

-------------

Jade did not see the object that was dropped at Germanius' feet. Blood was pouring out of the lacerations on her back now and her head was floating off into the clouds. The binds at her wrists were all that held her upright. Her expression seemed almost serene as her head rocked back, lifting her chin towards the sky.

If these were, in fact, her last breaths, she had no reason to resist them or to fear them or to trouble herself over them at all, really. The scroll was still safely hidden, her final act of loyalty to the wishes of her father. And to the memory, or rather to the dream, of her mother she had also remained faithful. After all, how could she have, even at her weakest of moments, chosen to stay with the very person who had ended her mother's life? What kind of person, she thought, would that have made her?

Jade had felt her mother's presence more and more since her arrival in this country. The smell of the forest rain had aroused in her memories she did not even know she had. _Malaela_, the wind had whispered, _Malaela_. And Jade had recognized the name of her mother. And she could almost make out the curves of Malaela's face, smiling down at the small, infant body cradled in her arms. Jade might have seen that face again if only…

But such thoughts were hateful, and she did not feel hateful—not really. Only sad. It was a simple word, but it was how she felt: simply sad. It was not a profound sadness, but the sort of curious sadness that is almost shocked at its own nature and says: _So, this is sorrow._

Tristan would be fine. He and Jade just weren't meant to be, that was all. He would go home and he would find happiness and peace and someone else to love. And he would be fine. And as for Jade, she would—well, what _would _become of her?

"Bring him forward," Bishop Germanius growled.

Jades eyes came into focus, fixing themselves directly ahead of her at the figure of Tristan who was held at each arm by two Roman soldiers. He did not struggle or try to break free from their grasp, but instead stood very still with eerie composure. His body was slack and his arms hung loosely in the unyielding grip of his captors. In fact, he almost looked amused.

But when his glance met Jade's, his face went flat and any sign of amusement that had passed over his ever-cryptic face had quickly dissipated. Locking his eyes firmly onto hers, he appeared to be communing with her nonverbally.

_I came, _he seemed to say. _Despite everything, I came for you._

Her eyes did not respond, however. Paled from the loss of blood, her face held only a blank, almost stupefied expression.

Germanius' lips were moving, but Jade could not make out the words he was speaking. Training her ears on his voice, she focused to make sense of his speech. "And what have we here? A Sarmatian Knight?" Germanius was saying to Tristan. "What brings the scout all this way into the forest?"

"I might ask you the same question," Tristan replied.

"Our business is no concern of yours," Germanius hissed.

"Then release me," Tristan said simply, knowing the proposition would carry no weight.

Germanius laughed. "I'm afraid it is your misfortune to have witnessed a little too much for us to just let you go," he said. "But perhaps we may find some other use for you."

Tristan narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"You see," continued Germanius, grabbing Jade's chin and forcing her to face him, "Our lady here has information that we want—and she simply will not give it to us!" He took the whip in his hands once more and cracked it against her back. "Will you?"

Jade did not respond.

Tristan jerked forward, enraged by the abuse shown to her, but the two guards held him back. Germanius apprised the situation with satisfaction. His little plan might just work after all.

"And so, my lady," he said, "Since it appears you do not value your own life enough to give up the scroll, we shall have to resort to alternative methods. Petrus."

Germanius motioned to the soldier on Tristan's right who promptly drew his sword and placed it at the scout's neck. There was a brief, fleeting instant in which Tristan looked questioningly at Jade, wondering what she would do, what she would choose. But it passed quickly as there was not a moment's hesitation on Jade's part.

"It's in my boot," she said quite plainly. "You'll find the scroll inside my left boot." Looking at Tristan, her eyes sobered and seemed to speak to him: _Did you really doubt me?_

Germanius grinned with wicked glee as he stooped down towards her feet like a spoiled child once again getting exactly what he wanted. With all the attention directed at Germanius, Tristan saw his chance and snatched the sword from Petrus' hands, striking the two soldiers down where they stood. The rest he did easily, hacking down any soldier that came at him, whirling his sword as if it were yet another extremity powered at his will. He spun and jabbed and sliced and it wasn't until the last body had collapsed to the ground that he noticed Germanius with a dagger at Jade's neck. Tristan paused, his face splattered with blood, his mouth hanging downward, his eyes on fire.

"Let her go."

"You won't kill me," Germanius seethed. "The Pope will send an entire army for your head."

Tristan looked at Jade. Her eyes held hopelessness and regret.

"I never meant it—" she said, "Any of it—"

_I never meant those words I said to you last night, _she wanted to say. _I never meant for you to go, for us to part. Because, you see, I forgave you—I forgave you for what was never really your fault to begin with—from the very instant that I learned the truth. I took my silly notion of family and fidelity and used it as a blade, wrung it through your heart. And I'm sorry—because I love you. And I have never meant—nor will ever mean—anything otherwise._

These words, however, were stolen from her throat as Germanius slid his knife across her neck. Her eyes widened momentarily and then fluttered shut as her body slumped against the binds that held her.

Tristan leapt like a lightning bolt from the sky onto the bishop and bared his teeth like a wild animal. He lifted his blade.

"No!" Germanius cried, "You cannot—"

But the words followed his severed head and rolled away from the rest of his body. That was the only head the Pope would get.

Tristan did not waste time wiping the bishop's blood from his sword, but rushed quickly to where Jade's motionless body still hung by the arms to a tree branch. He thought her dead, saw it in the stillness of her shape and the blood running down her front. Nevertheless, he cut through her binds and gathered her in his arms, believing he held her corpse.

But her heart beat! It was faint, but he could hear its whisper in her chest. Quickly he tore a strip of cloth for a bandage and tied it securely around her neck, hoping to stop the bleeding. Not knowing what else to do, he whistled for his horse and, with Jade in tow, raced into the forest.

He held her body close to his chest, his heart beating frantically for the both of them. _Stay with me, _he thought. _Stay with me._ But she was growing colder every second and he knew that he was running out of time fast. He would never make it to Hadrian's Wall in time.

Up ahead, he saw the familiar figures of blue creatures gathered around a funeral pyre and urged his horse forward. The battle must have been over because the Woads were throwing their dead into the fire as was their custom. It also appeared the Saxons had been defeated because the Woads chanted their victory hymns as Merlin presided over the festivities.

Tristan did not care about any of this, however, as he rode over to them and quickly dismounted with the unconscious Jade in his arms. The Woads paused in their chanting and stared at him dumbfounded as he approached. Their immobility perturbed him. Couldn't they see their help was needed?

He glared at Merlin, holding out the injured bundle in his arms. "You claimed her as one of you, but now you refuse her aid?"

Merlin nodded in compliance and, in his native tongue, quickly gave orders to two of his men. They hurriedly led Tristan into a nearby shelter that had been built not too far from the funeral pyre. Merlin already waited inside, rummaging through sacks filled with various herbs and remedies.

"I hope you have no objections to my dark magic," said Merlin.

Tristan grunted in the negative as he laid Jade down on the bed in the corner. He had heard stories about Merlin's so-called dark magic and hoped only that there was at least a seed of truth in the tales so that Jade might live by some miracle rendered by the old wizard. Let him use whatever powers he saw fit, only let those powers save her life. What had she spoken of when she had said she did not mean it? What hadn't she meant? The words she had said to him the night before—or the love she had made with him the night before that? The question tormented him.

Merlin was presently examining Jade and fiddling with the impromptu bandage around her neck. The lines on his face appeared creased with worry.

"She has lost a lot of blood," he muttered.

"Will she be okay?" Tristan asked.

Merlin shook his head. "Too soon to tell," he said. "Too soon to tell."

This was not the answer Tristan wanted to hear. "Then _do _something," he growled, grabbing Merlin by the shoulder.

The magician sighed. "I will if you let me," he said calmly, glancing down at the hand that was still clamped onto him.

Tristan released the old man from his grip, and he turned his attention back to Jade.

"She is fortunate the blade did not cut any deeper into her neck," Merlin noted, "or she would have drowned in her own blood."

Tristan nodded.

"I'm going to give her an herbal medicine," Merlin continued, smearing a green concoction over the wound. "If this remains green throughout the night, then she will heal. If it turns black…"

"Then what?"

"It means the wound has become infected," he replied. "And there's nothing more I can do."

Tristan gritted his teeth and stared down at the green herbs that were smothered over Jade's throat. She looked so very pale and fragile. "Is there nothing else you can do for her?" he asked.

"No," Merlin said, "But perhaps there is something you can do."

"What is that?"

"Guard her from the death spirits," the magician replied. "Keep them from stealing her away."

"Don't confound me with your riddles, old man," Tristan said.

Merlin shook his head. "No riddles," he said. "Only the truth that if she wants to die, if those that have gone before her call to her, she may be tempted to join them. Make her want to stay."

"I don't know how."

"I think you do."


	15. Chapter 15

What is it about sitting on a rock that makes you start to ponder and brood over things? Well, I found a boulder at the edge of the woods where I could sit and keep watch both for the knights returning to the halted caravan and for Tristan returning from the forest, hopefully bringing Jade back with him. And as I sat in this ponderous state, watching the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon, I came to the conclusion that in truth there is only one human emotion from which all other emotions spawn. And that is fear.

After all, is fear not the origin of hate, for example? I've often found that when one person hates another person it's only because they feel threatened by them. And yet, the wise ones also say that there is a fine line between love and hate. But I say that, in fact, this fine line exists in the difference between the fear _of _another and the fear _for _another. At this particular moment, for instance, I hated the Saxons because I feared them, feared that they would take away what I held most dear. And at the same time my love for Dagonet was manifested in that I feared for him, feared that he might be taken away from me.

Tristan feared for Jade, that much was certain. That's why he abandoned the battle to go after her—and that's how I knew once and for all that he truly loved her. But Jade, on the other hand—well, she was still afraid _of _Tristan—or at least of loving him. And perhaps that's why she had put on a mask of anger and hatred towards him the night before. Jade believed in destiny, after all, and what sort of twisted fate would direct a man to kill a woman and then fall in love with her daughter for all of eternity? Thinking she had surely made a mistake, Jade pushed him away—but fate would not keep them away for long. I had to believe that Tristan would find her and bring her back safely.

And so I sat on that rock waiting and musing and feeling rather proud of my profundity, but of course not paying any attention to my surroundings whatsoever. Seemingly out of nowhere, a large hand yanked me roughly to my feet and I found myself staring into two yellow Saxon eyes. I opened my mouth to scream, but he slapped his other hand over my lips to muffle the cry. So I sank my teeth into his palm.

He yelped and staggered back a few paces. I tried to flee, but three of his Saxon friends had created a perimeter around us, so of course there was nowhere to run.

"Don't you all have anything better to do?" I demanded.

They cocked their heads to the side and furrowed their brows in confusion.

"Well, I mean, honestly!" I said. "There are a bunch of half naked blue fellows down there on the battlefield kicking your asses and it takes four of you to come up here to ambush a lady sitting on a rock?"

The Saxons briefly shared a puzzled look among them and then, turning back to me, brandished their weapons menacingly. Apparently there would be no reasoning with them.

"We'll take her as a hostage," one growled to the others.

"Who? Me?" I asked. "I'm just the maid. Honestly. Why don't you go find a Roman officer or someone else of actual consequence instead? The Sarmatians and Romans are quite close, you know. Take a clergyman hostage and you'll have the knights in the palms of your hands."

"Shut up!" the Saxon closest to me snarled and grabbed me by the hair.

"Ouch!" I cried as he dragged me along behind him. "You'll pay for this!"

"He certainly will," a voice boomed from behind.

The crack of an axe splitting through my captor's head echoed into the trees as Dagonet arrived on the scene with Galahad and Gawain close behind. Within seconds, the four Saxons were broken and bleeding, dead on the ground.

"Dagonet!" I cried, leaping into his arms. "I was so worried!"

"It's alright," he said gently. "I'm fine—the battle's won. Are you okay?"

"Me?" I scoffed. "Of course I am!"

The knights, however, looked disheveled and battle weary. Their armor was splattered with blood and sweat, and they leaned gingerly against their swords, clearly sore and bruised.

"Where are the others?" I asked.

"Lancelot was injured pretty badly," Dagonet explained. "I'm on my way now to fetch my healing supplies. Bors and Arthur are with him now."

"And nobody's seen Tristan at all," Gawain added.

"Oh," I said and quickly explained all that had passed—how Germanius had kidnapped Jade and how Tristan had gone after them into the forest.

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Dagonet said, but I saw the look that passed among him and the other two knights.

"It's almost dark," Galahad noted.

"If they don't return tonight," Gawain said, "we'll go out looking for them at first light."

Dagonet nodded in agreement.

"My ears are twitching," I whispered.

------------------------------

_Pelagius knelt down at the river bank and dipped his hands into the cool water, splashing it onto his face. Laying down his heavy load beside him, he sat for a moment to gain back his strength. He was still half a day's journey from Hadrian's Wall. Over the past month, he had been visiting local villages, checking on the Roman cavalries stationed there, making sure they did not abuse the native people as they were known to do. Such missions were always taxing and arduous and Pelagius would be glad to return home to the fort._

_Presently he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching softly behind him. He turned to find the familiar face of a woman—a native woman whom he had not seen in almost a year—a woman whose presence still caused his heart to flutter and his breathing to halt momentarily. She carried a tiny newborn in her arms wrapped in a tattered blanket and held the child out to him._

"_You are a good man," she said. "But you are Roman—as is your child."_

"_Malaela…"_

Jade stirred in her dreaming, her face as white and translucent as the moon. She was so pale. And her breathing was raspy and shallow. Tristan sat attentively by her bedside with only a tiny candle to light the darkness. Merlin had left him alone to watch over her—to make sure that damned dark magic medicine remained green and did not turn black. And what exactly had the old wizard meant about death spirits?

The Sarmatians, of course, believed in an afterlife—believed that brave warriors returned as great horses. But Tristan had always only half-heartedly believed in such things and certainly did not buy into the idea that the dead interfered in earthly affairs. Then again, what if they did?

Nonsense. Rubbish. And besides, what death spirits would call to Jade from the grave? Her mother? That was possible—very likely, in fact. Jade had chosen her ties to her mother over Tristan, after all, had she not? It was not completely inconceivable that she would choose to pass into the next life to finally meet the woman who had given birth to her. Perhaps she had even dreamt of such a moment—maybe all her life.

Something crashed in the corner of the room and Tristan immediately snapped to attention. Until that moment, he had not even realized he had dozed off. A burly man—a Woad—crouched in the corner, collecting the broken pieces of the jar he had knocked off the table.

"So sorry," he whispered. "I was looking for…"

Tristan glared at him.

"I'll go now."

As the man tip-toed out of the shelter, Tristan turned back to Jade. "Shit!" Tristan cursed. "Damn it!" The medicine was slowly changing from the deep green to a murky grey. Racing from the hut, Tristan charged through the crowd of Woads gathered at the campsite, shoving them out of his way until they wisely stepped aside and cleared a path for him. They whispered among themselves, curious about the raving Sarmatian intruder.

"Merlin!" Tristan shouted. "Where's Merlin?"

The old man rose from his place by the fire. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"It's grey," Tristan hissed. "The damn medicine is turning black. You must do something. You must—"

Merlin shook his head sadly. "I told you," he said. "There's nothing else I can do for her."

"Damn you!" Tristan snapped. "Damn you all! It's her mother coming for her, isn't it? You knew this would happen."

Merlin stared quizzically at the scout. "It was her father I spoke of," he clarified. "Why would her mother come for her?"

Tristan opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated in puzzlement as the words became jumbled in his head. "Why not?—Why wouldn't she?"

"I think," Merlin began, "that perhaps it is time you heard the story—the whole story—about Malaela, Jade's mother. You see, when Guinevere spoke to Jade of her mother's history, she did not know all of the facts. I do apologize for the complications this has caused."

"What are you talking about?"

"Please," Merlin said and motioned for Tristan to take a seat beside him. "I will do my best to explain as fully as possible.

_Malaela was one of the strongest and most courageous of our warriors, which is why I trusted her with one of the most dangerous missions we have ever executed. She was to seduce the Roman named Pelagius and discover from him where he had hidden a certain scroll which was of the utmost importance to Rome. With this scroll, we hoped to blackmail, bribe, and coerce our oppressors. _

_In fact, it is because of that scroll that for so many years we have managed to avoid complete annihilation by the Roman cavalries. Many a time has that scroll saved us from terrible fates. For years, we had only to threaten to destroy it and the Romans would leave us unharmed. To this day we do not know the meaning of its contents. With the Romans at last leaving our land for good, I returned the scroll to Jade who I suppose is the closest thing to its rightful owner._

_But I am straying from the point. Following orders, Malaela disguised herself as a villager at Hadrian's Wall where she managed to befriend the philosopher. Soon Pelagius had fallen madly in love with her and I daresay she might have returned the feelings. Pelagius was a good man, though, not like other Romans. But Malaela loved Britain more than she would ever love any man and so she did her duty well, stealing the scroll and bringing it to me for safekeeping._

_That would have been the end of it, except that soon Malaela's stomach began to swell. She asked me for herbs to make it stop, but I would not allow her this. I knew Jade—I could see her future, though she was still only a tiny seed in her mother's womb. Malaela tried many times to deliberately miscarry, but failed each time. _

"_Why do you do this?" I asked her._

"_I cannot bear the shame of carrying Rome within me," she replied and rubbed her belly with her hands. "I won't."_

"_You fool," I said. "You carry Britain inside you as well."_

_So you see, I and my people would have loved Jade even if her mother could not. It broke my heart when Malaela returned her to her father, though I knew it was her destiny. Pelagius took good care of her. Malaela never spoke of her again._

"So you see," Merlin said, "it is very unlikely that Malaela would come for her."

Tristan tried to steady his hands, but they were trembling violently with anger. "Manipulative bastards," he reviled, "the lot of you."

Rising from his seat by the fire, Tristan stormed back to the hut where Jade lay, still unconscious. The medicine on her neck had turned to a darker grey. He slammed his fist against the wall. All the pain, all the agony, all the damn "complications" as Merlin had called them were due to a woman who had never felt anything for her daughter, not love, not even a motherly tenderness. And now Jade was dying and there was nothing—nothing he could do.

"_Make her want to stay."_

"_I don't know how."_

"_I think you do."_

Tristan drew in a deep breath. "Jade," he whispered, "Listen to me. I know you think there's nothing left for you here, but that's not true. I'm here. And I know you think you owe some kind of loyalty to your mother's memory, but you don't. You don't owe her _anything_. Do you hear me? She left you. I'm sorry, but she did and she's not going to come for you, so you need to come back to me. Because I will never abandon you."

There was a movement beneath her eyelashes and Tristan held his breath as Jade's eyes fluttered open. She looked up at him, hazy and disoriented, but he took her hand and kissed it, so relieved that she had awakened. Opening her mouth to speak, Jade's eyes were suddenly filled with terror as no words came out.

A heavy hand rested on the scout's shoulder.

"What's going on?" Tristan asked. "What's wrong with her?"

"She cannot speak," Merlin explained as he tended to the bandaging around her neck. The medicine was beginning to regain some of its green.

"Is it permanent?" Tristan asked.

"Time will tell," Merlin said.

Tristan brushed his hand across Jade's forehead. "It's going to be okay," he assured her.

Jade nodded and she seemed to be speaking to him through her eyes.

"Don't worry," the scout said. "The bishop is dead. You don't have to worry about him anymore."

Jade exhaled to show her relief. Slowly and deliberately, she moved her lips, mouthing words to him.

He shook his head helplessly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't understand."

"She says," Merlin interjected, "that she feared for you."

Tristan looked deeply into her eyes. "I feared for you too."


	16. Chapter 16

Resting quietly in the bed Merlin had made available for her, Jade fidgeted with the bandaging around her neck, staring off into the far corner of the room in a catatonic state. Slowly it was sinking in that she might never speak again, and it was not the loss of her voice that frightened her as much as the loss of her chance to make things right. Before Germanius had run his knife across her throat, there had been words—apologies that Jade had wanted to make to Tristan. But the bishop's blade had stolen that chance from her.

"Hey," Tristan said, taking her hand and guiding it away from the bandage. "You'll tear it off."

Jade forced a small smile and let her hand remain in his. Why was he here? So attentive, showing such kindness. And why had he come to rescue her in the first place, for that matter? She certainly did not deserve it, not after the way they had parted back at the Wall. Hadn't whatever it was that had once existed between them dissolved when she had so foolishly told him they could never be?

Jade wished desperately now to ask him these questions, but she knew she couldn't. And the truth was that even if she had been able to speak, she honestly wouldn't have known how to even begin. So instead she sat in consternation, mulling over what had been, what might have been, and what still had yet to be—if anything. Where did they go from here? What did the world have yet in store for them? Were they but lost souls, errant souls on two separate journeys?

Tristan leaned back in his chair beside her, propping his feet up on the nearby table. He looked completely relaxed and unconcerned, impassively flipping his dagger about in his hand, flinging it down onto the wooden table. But feeling the gentle touch of her hand on his sleeve, Tristan turned his attention to her.

"Thank you," she mouthed to him and pointed to her chest. "For saving me."

"Oh," he said. "I did nothing. Really. I should be thanking you."

Jade shook her head adamantly.

"Yes," he insisted. "If you had not agreed to give up that scroll—"

Jade swept her hand indifferently through the air.

"But it does matter," he said, "to me. It matters greatly."

Shrugging her shoulders and waving him off, she reached down into her boot where the scroll was still hidden and handed it to him. Carefully he unrolled the parchment and perused its contents, wondering what it held that was so important. After all, Jade had been willing to be beaten almost to death in order to secure that its location remain hidden from the bishop.

"It's a map," Tristan said.

Jade nodded.

He furrowed his brow. "Of what, though?" he asked. "I can't make out the writing."

She smiled slyly.

"Roman forts? Trails? Trade routes? I recognize none of it."

"It's a secret," Jade mouthed to him.

"What?" he asked, trying to follow the movement of her lips. "Slower. Repeat it again slowly."

"Secret," she pronounced and put a finger to her lips. "Secret."

"Oh," Tristan said, a thread of amusement laced through his voice.

The door to the hut creaked open and Tristan quickly slipped the scroll back down into Jade's boot. Merlin stood in the doorway, the moonlight casting a pale glow over his skin that made the old magician seem even more preternatural. He appeared to sway like an old tree from side to side in the wind, hypnotizing the two guests inside the hut.

"I would like to speak to Jade," he said at last.

Jade simply gazed up at him, still captivated by his presence, but fortunately Tristan answered for her. "Go ahead," he replied.

"Alone," Merlin said.

Tristan narrowed his eyes. "There's nothing you can say to her that you can't say in front of me."

"Nevertheless," Merlin said, "I would most appreciate the privacy. Please."

Jade patted the protective scout on the hand, assuring him that it was alright. Tristan rose from his seat with a sigh and shot Merlin a threatening glance as he strolled out of the hut. He would wait right outside the door—just in case.

Leaning nonchalantly against the outer wall of the structure, Tristan strained to hear what was being said inside. Soon enough, however, there was a withered hand resting on his shoulder and a yellow-toothed old woman was grinning up at him.

"Away," he said, swatting her hand from his shoulder. "Leave me be."

"I shall read your fortune," she said, jingling the beads that hung around her neck. "Come."

Tristan's feet remained firmly planted. "I don't believe in fortunes," he muttered.

"_Come_," she repeated sternly, a distinct ire rising behind her gleaming eyes.

Tristan groaned inwardly, but eventually relented and followed her towards a table by the campfire where she motioned him to sit. He did so and she immediately snatched at his hand. His reflexes were too quick, however, and before she could reach him, he had recoiled, reeling his arm back and returning his hand to the hilt of the sword at his side.

The old woman cackled, bearing her sharp, yellow teeth and feasting her eyes on the disagreeable man before her. She opened her hand and beckoned him to offer her his. Warily he laid his hand on the table and she grasped at it, pouring over its various lines and creases.

"Mmm," she grunted. "Mmm."

Tristan sighed. "What?" he asked with explicit disinterest. "What is it?"

She acted as though she did not hear him, however, and continued to scrutinize his hand. It was as if his palm had entranced her and nothing could wake her from her reverie. The old woman studied every blemish, every pore, every hair, and would not stop until she was positive she had scoured every inch of every finger. Her nails were long and ragged and glided sharply over his skin, causing his spine to tingle and his hair to stand up on end.

"Oh…" she said.

"What?"

"Hush!" she said, holding a finger up in the air to silence him.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"I see…" she said with bravado, "…greatness…in your future."

At this anticlimactic revelation, Tristan's face deadpanned. "You say that to everyone," he retorted.

Not at all affected by this provocation, the old woman smirked and let her eyes fall back down upon his palm. "I see…" she continued dramatically. "A great journey—for which you will be long remembered…and great love. Yes, I see…two hawks…Ah, but they are frozen…cannot fly…"

Tristan shifted in his seat. "That's enough," he said, pulling his hand away. "Thank you."

But the old woman clamped onto his hand again and would not let it go. "Why are you so cold, Tristan?"

"How do you know my name?"

"So cold…"

"Enough." Tristan yanked his arm from her grip and stood abruptly.

"Do you not feel the chill?" she whispered. "Do you feel anything at all? You must feel…must…"

Her voice faded into the night as Tristan stalked off back towards the hut. So sullen, so cross. His boots scuffed angrily at the dirt as he marched up to the entrance and threw open the door. Merlin sat beside Jade's bed, speaking in a hushed, conspiring tone. At Tristan's arrival, Jade looked up and smiled faintly. She nodded to Merlin, indicating that it was time to let Tristan in on what was to pass.

"Jade wants you to know," Merlin began, "that what is about to happen was solely her decision. I had nothing to do—"

"What's going on?" Tristan demanded.

"I have a way to make her feel again," Merlin explained

A shiver ran up Tristan's spine as the old woman's words buzzed in his ears. "What?"

"A way to make her feel pain again," Merlin clarified. "I have an anecdote." He paused. "This will not be easy…"

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Tristan asked, ignoring him.

Jade nodded gravely.

Tristan turned to Merlin. The scout's eyes flared with unspoken threats. "No harm will come to her?"

"She has sustained many injuries already. As the numbness wears off, the pain may very well become excruciating, unbearable," Merlin explained. "But it will do her no damage. In the long run, I think, that this is the right thing."

"But it was solely her decision?"

Jade nodded firmly.

Tristan was quiet for a moment, contemplating. "Very well," he said at last. "What must be done?"

Merlin explained briefly about each of the herbs and their effects and quickly set to work, mixing them into a concoction for Jade to drink. Bringing the cup to her mouth, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. It smelled awful. But Jade was determined, and so she closed her eyes and tossed the liquid down her throat, gagging at its taste and its burn.

Allowing them their privacy, Merlin disappeared from the hut to catch a few hours of sleep. It was the middle of the night now, and the gathering around the campfire had quieted and dispersed. Dawn was still far off, however, and it would be a long night for Tristan and Jade.

At first, Jade had feared the anecdote was ineffective. For several minutes, she felt nothing. But soon enough she noticed a dull pain in her neck that grew sharper and sharper with each passing moment until she could hardly stand it. In the meantime, the wounds on her back from Germanius' scourge began to ache, so that she was forced to shift onto her side so as not to irritate the open lacerations.

Tristan once again sat by her bedside, not knowing what to do or how he could help. The worst part was that she could not cry out, could not scream in agony, could not curse and swear or beg and plead for it all to be over. Instead she lay helplessly in a fetal position, hugging her knees to her chest, the muscles of her face twisted and contorted, and her mouth a perfect 'O' of anguish, affliction, and suffering. A cool dampness was seeping through the cracks in the walls, causing her to tremble beneath her thin blanket.

Tristan felt the chill as well. So cold. He climbed into the bed beside her and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

"Okay?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

Shaking her head in the affirmative, she mouthed to him, "Stay."

"What?" he asked, still not completely accustomed to reading her lips.

"Stay," she repeated slowly, exaggerating the movement of her lips. "Stay with me. Please."

"You know that I will."

Jade nestled her head deeper into his chest, sighing deeply. She clung to his outer tunic, holding it tightly in her grip as the pain surged through her body.

"It will be over soon," he said softly. Her body was rigid and stiff in his arms, every muscle tense. "I got hit with a poison arrow once," he recalled. "It was the worst torture I have ever experienced."

Jade nudged him gently, urging him to continue. The sound of his voice soothed her; it was her only comfort.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat. "The arrow hit me in the leg—at first Dagonet intended to amputate it. The poison was like fire—to the point I almost took the leg by my own sword."

Jade gasped.

"But I didn't and at last I passed out. For two days."

Jade's lips formed a question.

"Oh yes. Then I was fine."

Again her mouth moved, and he was finding it easier to read the words.

"Another story?" he said. "I…don't know."

"Please," conveyed her lips.

"You're the storyteller," he said. "Not I."

Jade forced a smile and shook her head.

"It's true," he insisted. "It was your storytelling that first enchanted me—in the stables. My mother used to tell that story."

Jade elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ouch! Yes, I know I pretended I didn't know the ending. But I did."

She smiled. "Tell me about your life," she mouthed, "about your family, about…"

"Slow down," he laughed. "One at a time."

And so as the night pressed on, so did Tristan, recounting memories and histories from long ago. He described his home back in Sarmatia where his mother had raised him on her own for eleven years until the Romans came for him. It was she who had taught him the sword and then had taken her life by it when the soldiers had come to take him away. He next described to her his first years of service in Britain and the bonds that he and the knights had formed and the brothers he had lost.

Never had he spoken for so long or revealed so much. But once he began, the words seemed to flow from him like blood from a mortal wound. And yet to his surprise, he did not lose life from confiding these things, but gained it instead. And he felt warm. So warm now.

Tangled together in each other's arms, Tristan and Jade eventually found rest, closing their eyes and allowing sleep to overtake them. Just before sunrise, Merlin looked in on them and smiled. The old woman peered over his shoulder.

"Ah," she said. "There has been much healing here tonight."

"My remedies are unmatched in this land," he replied proudly.

She only grinned, a tittering giggle rising in her throat. "Yes. Much healing."


	17. Chapter 17

Well, here it is at last. The final chapter. Many thanks to everyone who's been reading along and thank you all so much for your comments and support. You guys are great!!

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"We're going in circles," Galahad groaned.

"We've been going in circles," Gawain said.

"For hours," Galahad added.

"Will you two kindly desist?" I asked.

Unfortunately, however, they were right. Arthur, Galahad, Gawain, Bors, and I had set out in the early morning, just after sunrise, to search for Tristan and Jade, leaving Dagonet alone to tend to Lancelot, the poor man. And when I say 'poor man,' I refer to Dagonet, not Lancelot who was in truth the most terrible of patients, whining and moaning and making trouble for all the young healers of the female sex. Dagonet was charged with keeping the first knight in bed resting at all costs. I daresay his mission was almost as hopeless as ours.

I was tagging along with the search party since I had been the last person to see Tristan disappear into the forest and because I simply refused to sit around waiting. Thus far, however, we had had little success. Actually, we had had no success whatsoever. It was near noon now and we had done nothing but retrace our steps through the forest over and over again. The fact of the matter was that the knights were completely helpless without their scout and I was beginning to think we'd never find Tristan and Jade.

"We're lost," Galahad said.

"We are not lost," Arthur, the voice of reason, said. "I know exactly where we are."

"Yes, but you don't know where we're going," Gawain countered. "That's just as bad."

"You know," I said, "we could have asked the woodsman back there if he'd seen the bishop's carriage…but, of course, men never—"

"I never trust a woodsman," Galahad said. "Shifty fellows."

"For goddesses' sake, Galahad, not this again," Gawain said. "That had to be, what? Six years ago? It's time to let it go, old friend."

"Galahad was almost caught under a falling tree during an expeditions once," Bors explained for my benefit. "Been jittery about it ever since."

"They were cutting down trees?" I asked.

"For firewood," Gawain replied. "Or for building houses."

"Ah," I said. "In Rome they mostly use stone in their architecture. Wood burns too easily."

"Are there many fires in Rome?" Galahad asked.

"Depends on the Emperor," I said with a wink.

The young knight looked confused.

"Emperor Nero," Arthur explained, "looked on as his entire city burned to ash while he played his fiddle."

"Sounds like a Roman," Gawain said.

"Bastards," Bors muttered.

"I suppose it would be meaningless to mention Rome was not Christian at the time," Arthur said.

"Pretty much," Gawain said.

"A Roman's a Roman," Bors added.

"And what will you do now, Arthur?" I asked. "Now that you're a ruler yourself?"

"Make me governor, of course," Bors said.

"Hey, that's right," Galahad said. "Arthur is king now."

"Well," Arthur began ceremoniously and cleared his throat. "I intend to unite the entire country. And all shall work together for the common cause of freedom. There will be no more oppression or serfs or persecution. And every voice shall be heard, every right ensured, every—"

"In other words, you haven't thought about it much, huh?" Bors teased.

Arthur smiled.

"Oh, but you can't be serious!" I exclaimed. "That's a terrible manner in which to run a country. There will be absolutely no order, no structure, no obedience. It will be complete chaos! Now, listen here and I'll tell you exactly how—"

"Look there!" Gawain shouted suddenly.

"It's Tristan!" Galahad gasped.

"'Bout time," Bors remarked.

"Thank the Lord," Arthur sighed with relief.

"Alleluia!" I added for good measure and raced over to the scout who carried the very weak and feeble Jade in his arms. Tristan did not look much better himself. His face betrayed his weariness as did the slow pace with which he made his way through the brush. I feared he might collapse at any moment.

But, to be perfectly honest, it wasn't his health that was my primary concern. "What happened?" I demanded. "Is she alright? Where have you been? Is the bishop dead? Why is there a bandage on her throat?"

"Please," Arthur interjected, "don't bombard him with questions all at once."

Tristan shot his commander a grateful look. Meanwhile, Jade had awoken and, taking my hand, smiled up at me in reassurance.

"I found her with Germanius and his men," Tristan explained, his voice slow and forced. "He slit her throat…"

"Oh, God!" I cried.

"I killed him," Tristan said. The satisfaction in his voice did not go unnoticed by me. "He's dead."

"Good riddance," I said. "But what the hell were you doing letting her get her neck slit in the first place! She might have died! How did—how—how could you let this happen!"

"I did all I could," Tristan said with finality. "And she will be fine."

Jade tugged on Tristan's tunic and began to mouth something to him.

"She says not to worry," he translated.

"She _cannot speak!_" I cried, nearly keeling over from the shock of it all.

"It's a blessing she's still alive," Arthur interposed.

"It's a blessing I'm of a passive nature or I'd—I'd—"

"Tristan," Arthur interrupted once again, "I want a full account of everything that happened."

The scout nodded.

"But first," Arthur continued, glancing at Jade with concern, "we should head back to the fort."

---------

When we returned to the fort, Tristan immediately carried Jade up to his quarters, completely ignoring me as I chased at his heels, attempting to give him much needed instructions. But apparently I was simply of no use anymore! Well, if that was the case, I decided I would go where I was wanted and wandered off to find Dagonet in the healing rooms.

"She doesn't need me anymore!" I announced as I barged through the doors. "She's grown up and in love and has no need for old Minnie." I slumped dejectedly onto one of the nearby beds.

"Jade's returned?" Dagonet asked, his voice filled with anticipation and relief. He was currently fitting a wounded man with a sling for his arm.

"Yes, she's back," I said. "And with Tristan at the moment."

"That's wonderful," Dagonet said with a smile.

"Oh, yes. Wonderful," I said, rolling my eyes.

He had cocked his head to the side and was staring at me curiously, so I had no choice but to divulge to him all that I knew about what had happened with the bishop and of the tragedy that Jade would probably never speak again. He listened patiently and compassionately as always and after I had finished, we slipped off into the supply closet to make passionate, afternoon love. Glass vials shattered and herbs spilled all over the floor as three times I sang out to the heavens in pure pleasure and ecstasy.

-------------

In the meantime, Jade sat contentedly in the bathtub, letting the water warm the chill in her bones. Idly, she fiddled with one of Tristan's daggers that he had abandoned on a nearby stool in the washroom. Pressing her fingertip to the sharp point of the knife, she delighted in the thrill of the drop of blood that bubbled to the surface and the distinct tingle of pain at the prick of her skin.

"You'll hurt yourself," Tristan said, taking the dagger from her hands and returning it to his pocket.

Jade smiled. _That was rather the point_, she wanted to say.

In his hands Tristan carried a bowl of herbs which he mixed together as he took a seat on the stool beside the tub. She peered at the lumpy, slimy concoction and wrinkled her nose at the smell.

"To apply to the wound," he explained, sensing her apprehension. "Not to drink."

Jade let out an exaggerated sigh to show her relief, and Tristan stifled a soft chuckle. Then, getting down to business, he directed her to lean her head back as he unwrapped the bandaging around her neck. She flinched as he began to smear the medicine over the laceration.

"This might burn a little," Tristan said.

She raised an eyebrow as if to say, _Yes, it does. Thank you for the warning._

Once he had finished applying the herbs to the wound, Tristan's fingers began to wander along the curve of her neck. The pads of his fingers traced light circles along her earlobes and then drifted down over the slopes of her shoulders. His hands were rough, but his caress was gentle, and Jade tilted her head back over the edge of the bathtub, as she gazed at the upside-down features of his face. Her eyes followed his lips as they drew nearer and at last joined with hers--a taste they had both been longing for. His tongue slid through her parted mouth as she let her head fall farther back over the rim.

Releasing her from the kiss, he cradled her head in his hands and guided her to an upright position. She did not want him to leave, however, and to her gratification he had no such intention. Instead he rounded the corner of the bathtub, so that he was now facing her and without the superfluity of words, he stepped into the warm water—boots and all.

"Your clothes," Jade mouthed, her face glowing with laughter.

But it was too late. Tristan sank down upon her and their lips reunited once more. The water rose and poured out of the tub, splashing and splattering as it hit the floor. Tristan's soaked clothes and sopping boots were soon discarded and joined the many puddles that had already gathered all around the tub.

The water flooded and spread and seeped along the cracks in the tiles, beneath the door, and out into the hall where I felt its warmth on my bare toes as I passed through the corridor. I stopped briefly in my tracks and smiled—and then I continued on my way, humming a carefree tune.

_**7 months later…**_

Well, she did it. Somehow that Guinevere woman rooked Arthur into marrying her. I suppose it was what was best for the country, though. Now the people would be united just as Arthur had wanted—even if it was against my better judgment.

All the knights, Woads, and villagers were in attendance with Merlin presiding over the ceremony. They said their vows at the edge of a cliff—which happened to have odd-shaped rock structures all around. I never did receive a satisfactory answer as to what precisely their significance was.

At any rate, the wedding was beautiful—almost as beautiful as Dagonet's and my wedding. Yes, it's true. Dagonet and I were married almost two months after the battle at Badon Hill. And now I had turned into a cantaloupe.

Actually I was pregnant, very pregnant. How I managed to wobble up to the top of that cliff on swollen feet in the first place is far beyond my comprehension, but I am Minerva, wife to the Sarmatian knight and healer Dagonet, and some how I did it. With a large amount of complaining.

"Arthur, Guinevere," Merlin announced triumphantly, "our people are one. As you are."

"I think I'm having contractions."

"You're not having contractions," Dagonet replied, trying to quiet me. "It's not time yet."

"I'm having pains," I said through gritted teeth, "in my stomach."

"Well," he whispered sharply, "lime-tomato-baked-chicken legs will do that."

"Cravings!" I whispered back in explanation.

"Yes," he said. "I know."

Fortunately, the ceremony ended and the baby was still in my stomach, a fact of which it reminded me every two minutes with a good, sharp kick to my gut. I suppose I had only myself to blame for procreating with a warrior. I hoped only that the child would inherit my good senses along with Dagonet's fighting skills.

We presently gathered around the newly weds, giving them our congratulations. I spotted Jade and Tristan in the crowd and waved at them. Jade smiled and waved back, and Tristan gave a nod of acknowledgement. Over the past few months, the two had grown closer than ever and I daresay rivaled Dagonet and myself for the most happily-in-love couple at the fort.

Jade was lucky to have Tristan—especially now. Her voice had still not returned, but every once in awhile, after many trials, she could manage to utter a hoarse whisper—but nothing more. Tristan therefore served as a constant interpreter, having become astonishingly adept at reading both her lips and expressions to form a means of communication. It was a strange twist of fate, really—that such a quiet man would have to learn to be the voice of another. But as much as she depended on him, he also depended on her. She filled a void inside him that had been empty for so many years. Sometimes they would simply sit together in silence, and in that silence I truly believed they had deeper conversations of more consequence than the rest of us could ever hope to have with another.

Jade tapped Arthur on the shoulder.

"She wants to congratulate you," Tristan said. "And to offer you a gift."

"A gift?" Arthur said. "I wasn't expecting—You really shouldn't have."

"What is it?" I asked, shoving my big belly through the crowd as Dagonet followed closely behind.

Jade pulled a scroll from her pocket and offered it to the new king of Britain.

"Thank you," Arthur said, taking it from her and unrolling the parchment.

"What is it?" I asked again.

"My God!" he exclaimed, his eyes bulging from their sockets. "Is this—Is this what I think it is?"

Jade nodded excitedly.

"What _is _it?" I repeated.

"I can't believe it," Arthur said.

"The pregnant woman is _speaking!_" I cried in frustration. Realizing I wasn't making much progress, I moved around Arthur to see over his shoulder. The parchment held some sort of map and I had to stand on my tiptoes to try to make out the writing.

"What is it?" Guinevere asked.

Arthur beamed. "It's a map to the Holy Grail."

_Fin._


End file.
